Free State Of Dodge

by Javan Bonds

  He pulled the security door open, and his mother looked right past him and shouted, “Clifford! It’s good to see you!” She stepped past Jackson and gave the redhead a hug.

  Jackson looked at his mother incredulously and asked with feigned hurt, “And?”

  She turned back to him and sarcastically said, “I already saw you tonight. You only get one.”

  As Redstone smirked, Jackson asked his mother, “What did Daddy tell you?”

  “He told me the power was off everywhere and to be expecting y’all.” She stepped inside and gestured for them to enter. “He’s right in the living room.” She turned to walk back around the bar to the kitchen and then said, “Oh, Clifford! I’ve got some zucchini bread for you to take home.”

  “You bet I’ll get some of that stuff!” He always managed to save himself right as he was about to use a profanity in front of Mrs. Pike but had never understood why everyone was afraid to cuss in front of her. But she probably knew he cussed more than he breathed. He loved zucchini bread almost as much as Jackson did, so of course he would be sure to pick it up.

  Jackson stepped through the entryway into the living room, followed by Redstone, and saw his father sitting on the other side of the room in his recliner, watching the TV at low volume. He turned at the corner of the couch and placed his forearm on the back of it as a prop, and Redstone quickly walked around him to fall onto the couch.

  “Hear anything else?” Jackson asked his father as he glanced toward the TV. Jackson could see the news alert graphic flashing in the corner of the screen, with scrolls about the destroyed hydroelectric dams across the bottom. He could hear a frantic reporter saying this was an apparent terrorist attack and likely linked to the events that had occurred in DC earlier today. Video from helicopters circling over the dams and various power plants repeated across the screen.

  Jeff waited a moment and, without taking his eyes off the TV, said, “Well, they originally thought it was just an accident at one dam, and that had caused the power grid failure. But when they figured out it had happened all over the South, they realized it was something more.”

  Redstone tried to look at the TV and Jeff at the same time, and Jackson asked, “When will they get power back on?”

  “They ain’t said, but I imagine it will be a good little while.”

  “You mean like a week?” Redstone asked hopefully.

  “No, I’m talking months, if not years. The way things are going, I think this might be the straw that breaks the camel’s back.”

  Jeff had a fatalistic outlook when it came to the stability of the government, but Jackson knew he might be right this time. Sure, they might keep things going for a while, but the feds didn’t have the money to pour into emergencies similar to the one in New Orleans after Katrina, and this would be astronomically worse.

  The national debt was exponentially multiplying, the price of everything was inflating, the tax burden was hitting everyone hard, and the unemployment rate was skyrocketing. Maybe Daddy was right. This could be the beginning of the end.

  Jackson mentally shook himself; Old Ben seemed to be rubbing off on everyone. Yeah, it was possible, and his family had prepared for this for years. And even though he had been expecting a crash, he still hoped things would be just as they always had been. The three of them sat in silence, Jackson in deep thought, Jeff mentally going through the scenarios he had planned out, Redstone crushed and pressing himself back into the couch in a state of shock and depression that there would be no baseball or any other sportscasts. Jeff slowly lifted the remote, pressed “mute,” and turned his face to the younger men.

  “Remember the tornado a few years ago, when the power was out for over a week? This is going to be like that for a while. Cliff, be sure to show up to work tomorrow like you are clueless.”

  Redstone was clueless anyway, so that wouldn’t be very hard. He gave a gentle nod as Jeff continued.

  “I’ll talk to your daddy tomorrow.”

  The two were expecting more, but after a few seconds of waiting, Jackson broke the silence. “Do you think they will enact martial law?”

  Jeff moved his eyes firmly toward his son. “Eventually. It’ll probably take a few weeks or months, but when stores start running out of everything and people start stealing and killing one another, of course they will.”

  They both looked at Redstone, and he glanced from one to the other with a confused look.

  When he remembered he was a policeman and realized he would be forced to carry out martial orders, he exclaimed, “I ain’t going to people’s houses and taking their guns. I ain’t getting shot for that shit!”

  Jackson smiled at this as Jeff reminded Redstone, “Yeah, that probably wouldn’t be too smart. But you need to make it look like you are doing something, at least on paper.”

  ◆◆◆

  After what seemed akin to hours of discussing how things would play out, Jeff stood, saying as he walked toward Redstone, “It’s getting pretty late, and you need to get to the house and tell your wife the power is out, but everything will be okay. There ain’t no need to get anyone in a panic.”

  Forgetting that his only reason for going there was to watch TV, Redstone stood to shake Jeff’s hand. “This ain’t going to bother her, and as long as she’s got a damn vampire book, she’s happy.”

  The two men shook hands, and Redstone stepped over to shake Jackson’s hand.

  “If y’all need anything, we’re right across the road,” Jeff told Redstone, who nodded as he completed the ritual of shaking hands before leaving. Jackson’s father had not bid him farewell, and as the Pikes automatically reciprocated “see you,” he realized his father probably wanted to speak to him privately.

  As Redstone reached the entry to the kitchen, Mrs. Pike said, “Clifford, don’t forget your zucchini bread!”

  He skidded to a halt just inside the doorway. “Shi—oot, I can’t forget that!”

  Redstone and Mrs. Pike were talking in the kitchen, and even though it was only one room away, their conversation started to fade to background noise as Jeff leaned toward his son and said in a low voice, “Let’s go downstairs in a minute. We still got things to go over.”

  Jackson silently nodded while keeping his eyes on the muted TV; video clips were flashing of several destroyed dams, and there were even shots of a wrecked coal-fire power plant. Jackson had not given much thought to that one, but it seemed reasonable that terrorists would go after any facility that produced electricity.

  They could hear the two in the kitchen bidding their farewells, and when Redstone walked around the bar and opened the door to exit, he shouted, “See y’all” and closed the door behind him.

  As Jeff stepped around his son and began walking down the hallway, he turned and shouted, “Denise, we’ll be back in little bit!”

  As his mother called out a confirmation, Jackson turned to follow his father into the bunker.

  “Oh yeah, before I forget, I need to bring some beer over here for you to put in the fridge.”

  Jeff turned, puzzled. “Since when did you start drinking beer?”

  “It’s not mine. I got Redstone’s beer at the house.” Jackson wasn’t much of a drinker, but when he did drink, it certainly wasn’t beer. He had only shot whiskey for years. The confused look remained on his father’s face, so Jackson further explained, “His wife don’t like for him to drink, so he keeps it at my house to hide it from her.”

  Jeff let out a low chuckle, and the two men continued to the closet.

  CHAPTER 10

  July 5 & 6

  ONCE JACKSON HAD made it home, he parked his truck and closed the garage door. Using a flashlight, he made his way up the stairs and into his now-dark house. He thought about calling to check on Lacey and her family but determined they would be asleep at this time of night. There was no reason they would be in dire straits when they woke up in the morning, so he would be sure to call or stop by sometime tomorrow.

  Unsnapping his shirt
as he walked to his room, he thought about what he had discussed with his father. Jeff felt Dodge could easily be protected from any outside force, and the people of the town would need only to come together if they wanted to remain safe after the end of the world. His father had plans to block every incoming bridge, run defensive patrols, and even keep schooling as regular as possible. Jackson decided his dad had thought of everything, and he would vote for him for mayor. But Jeff would never run. He did not want a position of power; he just wanted things to work out smoothly.

  Jackson was still uncertain if this really was the tipping point. Things could go back to normal, and those plans would be just as useless as they had been yesterday. He still had hope.

  He entered his room, kicked off his boots, raised the flashlight to center on the electric clock on his bedside, and felt inwardly stupid—he relied on electricity just as much as anyone else. Maybe it would’ve been a good idea to put some of them solar panels up like Daddy told me to; I guess hindsight is twenty-twenty. He sat on his bed, began emptying his pockets, and looked at his cell phone as he reached to set it on his nightstand. Today was already yesterday, and things would be the same tomorrow. He decided to leave his cell phone on in case of emergency, knowing he could always charge it at his dad’s if the battery started running low. He and his father had talked about how landlines and cell phones would probably remain functional as long as the providers’ generators were operational; even without call service, the cell phone would provide a clock and alarm clock. He could always play Tetris.

  If his father’s plans worked as he expected, they could turn Dodge into a self-sufficient enclave—a stronghold functioning as a city-state. Jackson could actually see the town surviving, almost as a tribe. There would even be an economy here; things would still have value, and they could trade with other local groups. After the initial wave of travelers attempting to steal everything they could get their hands on—and those people could easily be stopped at the town limits—there would be no more than the occasional troublemaker. Of course the town would still need justice and order, some type of sheriff or lawman, and that job would probably mostly fall to Redstone.

  When Jackson had referenced Animal Farm, Jeff had made it clear that this would not be a commune, and no one would be forced to work, but if they wanted to eat or get a form of payment, then they would have to put forth some effort. They could not steal and live off the backs of others, as some Americans did today. If this was going to work, people had to think as good Christians and Americans. Your neighbor was just as important as you. Jackson didn’t think that would be difficult, since a lot of rural Alabamians were religious or at least believed in God, and almost all of them were red-blooded patriots. Yes, even if only most of this plan worked, Jackson decided, his father one day deserved a statue. If an albeit small society could function by the planning of one man, that man should be ranked with people such as George Washington.

  Jackson wondered if Redstone could handle the responsibility of laying down the law, even though they had talked about it a few times and he had said it would not be a problem. Jackson decided he would be there if his friend ever needed a deputy. With the national economy being so bad, his boss had cut him down to a four-day workweek, so he had almost two days until he had to go in and see how this power outage would affect his schedule.

  He thought about his younger cousin, Hollis, and wondered how the boy’s mother would contact them. Jackson wondered what would happen to Hollis since he had been in DC during the terrorist attack. The entire city would surely be locked down for a long time and Hollis had just seen the senator for whom he was paging and several others murdered. Would they send his cousin home? Could he make it back to Alabama alone? Jackson wondered what other plans might have changed in DC since the terrorist attacks on the power grid.

  It was so hot in the summer, especially with the power off. He stretched out on his bed to sleep on top of the covers, and his last conscious thoughts were of Lacey, how he could explain the situation, and how everything was going to happen.

  ◆◆◆

  Most people thought there had just been some sort of accident or storm that had caused the power outage and went to sleep completely confident that it would be on again when they woke. This had happened before. Tommy Rice thought as he crawled out of bed that he knew, before he even flipped the light switch, that there would be no electricity. He pulled on a pair of old shit kickers, made his way onto the front porch, and let out a deep sigh; there would be no hot coffee or a fried egg this morning, and he realized he might as well have a couple of bowls of cereal before the milk went bad. But before he would allow himself to go back inside and eat, he had a mission: though he was wearing only a T-shirt, a pair of striped boxers, and worn-out boots, he meant to travel to the doors of all of his neighbors until he found someone with the information on when the electricity would be back. It was obvious the cell tower generators had an inadequate gas supply, since cellular reception was spotty. Word of mouth was how most of the residents learned about things; maybe someone had heard about what had happened before the power went out.

  ◆◆◆

  “It was a car bomb, I think. It ruptured the dam and shit. It was probably Osama bin Laden and them people.”

  Redstone paused and smiled. Osama bin Laden was dead, and the terrorist organization claiming responsibility for the attacks wasn’t Islamic (for once), but conversational politeness required him to agree. So he said into the handset of his truck’s CB radio, “Yeah, I wouldn’t doubt it.”

  The person on the other end of the channel was Dale Ivey, a middle-aged man who was never seen outside of his home without a lip packed with Skoal Wintergreen and a stained T-shirt with the sleeves cut out; he had received the nickname Cooter for obvious reasons.

  Cooter clicked the handset of the radio in his truck and said after spitting on the ground. “Well, it’ll probably be a little bit before they can get that fixed up.”

  Redstone could hear the finality in the grizzled mountain man; the man obviously was not a college professor, but he could make just as educated a guess.

  Redstone had to agree. “Yeah, it might take a couple of months.” He didn’t need to say it but mentally added, “If ever.” Anyone who had watched the news could see things were only getting worse everywhere; if the economy didn’t pick up soon, the government would not be able to afford to hire any repair crews to fix anything.

  Cooter had to interrupt the conversation. “Hang on, man. I got some company.”

  After a few seconds of silence, Redstone placed the handset back in its holder and continued driving to town hall.

  Cooter sat in his truck and spoke over the radio, with the door hanging open as he watched his strangely dressed neighbor round the corner of his house and immediately see the farmer sitting in his truck beside the barn. “What’s going on, neighbor?” Cooter jovially called.

  Tommy Rice said as he approached, “Not much. Say, you wouldn’t know when the power is supposed to come back on, would you?”

  Cooter turned his head and spit a stream of tobacco juice that Tommy guessed would have hit his own boots if the man had aimed in his direction. Cooter gestured to his radio. “Yep, I was just talking to Redstone, and he said the al-Qaeda blew up the dam, and we probably ain’t going to be watching TV for a little while.” The farmer gave a wheezy chuckle as he finished and stood from his seated position.

  Everyone from Dodge knew Redstone, and Redstone knew everybody. The policeman had always been knowledgeable when it came to situations of a broader scale, and Tommy wasn’t going to question his word. Redstone had never actually stated that any terrorist group was to blame and would have corrected Cooter had he been present, but this secondhand information was close enough.

  After spending a few more minutes talking to his constantly spitting neighbor, Tommy excused himself and walked back to his house to change into something more appropriate for the day. While dressing, he began to go over
what he would need to do to prepare for an extended period without electricity: The rest of the day would consist of cooking or preserving any meat that was in the freezer. Using their natural gas stove, Glynavis could preserve everything Tommy was not able to cook today in her pressure canner. Next his priority would be weatherproofing his house for the coming winter. Though it wasn’t usually extremely cold in Alabama, it would be a good idea to ensure his home could retain heat; the Rices had done like most American families and agreed to the federally insisted suggestion of making their homes more energy efficient, so that actually would not be a lot of trouble.

  As he pulled a T-shirt over his head, he sincerely hoped Cooter would allow them to use his well water—as they did not have a well—or this would be one of the last clean shirts he would be wearing for an indefinite amount of time. He decided that before beginning his day of grilling everything he could find, he would walk to the houses of the other close neighbors and fill them in on the power situation.

  Glynavis had recently retired from her job at the county courthouse in Smithsville. Tommy had been laid off from his job as a manager at the chicken plant in Cryar months ago and was living on unemployment, unable to find work elsewhere. His daughter had just yesterday been involved in a traumatic holdup or something at the town’s only gas station and seemed to have PTSD and probably wasn’t going anywhere for a while. The feeling of uselessness and guilt that came over him every time he realized his young daughter had technically been the sole working adult in the house for months briefly crossed his mind; the entire family would be home today, so maybe they could all work together to prepare for what he assumed would be a winter without electricity.

  He almost fell down the back steps as he carried a large box of frozen chicken to the grill. From the little Redstone had told him, Lacey had seen at least one person shot dead; there was no way she would be able to handle a lot of work. Tommy had researched PTSD while working on his book and mentally slapped himself for not realizing this. Since being laid off, he had spent months working on a novel about veterans returning from Iraq and Afghanistan and was ashamed he had not realized she would need time and possibly even therapy to get over it. There probably wouldn’t be many therapists in their offices during an indefinite massive power outage, but he and her mother would make an attempt at therapy.