Free State Of Dodge

by Javan Bonds

  Tommy switched gears. He would not have placed himself in the category of survivalist or prepper, but over the past few months of being at home and in researching his book, he had learned a few tips on ways to survive a national emergency. He had set himself up with a few hunting rifles, and he would be relying heavily on Glynavis’s green-thumb knowledge of gardening.

  CHAPTER 11

  July 6

  THAT MORNING, WHEN Redstone awoke, he rolled onto his side to see that the alarm clock showed no signs of life, and he was not simply having a nightmare. The power was really off, and there would be no air conditioning, no TV, and, most tragically, no ball games. He reached for his still-active cell phone, which had no service, on the night stand to check the time. When he needed to charge it, he could always use his car charger; take it to his father’s house, where there was limited but continuous solar power; or even take it to Jeff’s. There was already some light shooting through the blinds on the window, but miraculously, even without his alarm clock, he was surprised to see he had awakened with more than enough time to get to town hall. Most days he barely had time to throw his uniform on, run out of the house, and speed to work with the blue lights on. He turned his head to see his wife lying on the other side of the bed with her back to him.

  “Whitney,” he said at normal volume. He received no reaction, so he yelled her name again and shook her by the shoulder.

  This time she stirred and shrugged his hand off, groggily slurring, “Shut up.” She didn’t work at the post office on the weekends, and he knew she probably wanted to sleep late today. She had stayed up reading Twilight or some other shit until he came home last night. Even though he would never admit it, the shootout he was involved yesterday had drained him, and he had fallen asleep without telling her anything more than that the power was out everywhere.

  He thought that before he left for work and the kids woke up, he should rouse her and get her into the living room without waking the baby, who was in the crib in the corner of their room. Once he eventually got her up, guided her to the hallway with her still-almost-closed eyes, and gently shut the door to their room behind him, they both walked to the living room. He walked in front of her, buttoning his uniform shirt as he walked, and stood near the middle of the room, looking to her usual seat. When she did not immediately sit, he turned to see her whisk by, head straight to the kitchen, grab a can of Pepsi from the fridge, and then make her way back to the couch.

  “It’s damn early; I need some caffeine.” Whitney had not used profanity until after she had met Redstone, and he guessed she had picked it up from him. But she still did not use it often, and being forced out of bed was probably the reason she was aggravated. She sipped from her can and asked “What?” as she plopped down on the couch. He told her as much as he could remember of what Jeff had told him and that he needed to go to work to “keep up appearances.”

  He washed his face with cold water and told her as he walked out the door, “If Daddy ain’t talked to Jeff by lunch, tell him to go over there.” Redstone let the screen door swing closed behind him and climbed into his truck to take an unusually easy ride to work.

  Redstone made it to town hall and was surprised he had beaten Bobbi Jo, which was unheard of until he realized it was the weekend. He hopped out of the truck, unlocked the front door, and sat in one of the chairs in the hallway, going over the story that he realized he would have to tell several times today. It just hit him that he had gotten out of bed early, had a responsible conversation with his wife, made it to work with time to spare, and planned on doing something other than sleeping today. What the hell? Maybe getting shot at had matured him fast. Did this mean he would start making his bed and—his cell phone began vibrating in his front pocket. He looked and saw it was Jackson. He brought the phone to his ear, making no sound.

  After a few seconds of silence, Jackson asked, “Hello?”

  “Yes?”

  “You’re supposed to say something when you answer the phone, dumbass.”

  “They just put the phone to their ear and don’t say anything in the movies.”

  Jackson let out a long sigh, but Redstone knew he was only pretending to be irritated; their daily banter was just as amusing to him as it was to Redstone. Well, most of the time, anyway.

  Jackson began by asking, “Have you been listening to the radio? The stations that are still running are playing national news…” He trailed off and waited for Redstone to respond.

  “I knew they wouldn’t be playing music, so I didn’t even bother turning it on this morning. What’s going on now?” Redstone finished with a “shit, not again” tone.

  “A bunch of nuclear power plants were attacked last night. All through the West.”

  Redstone felt his skin go pale at Jackson’s reply. “West?”

  “Good God…Like California and the Midwest.”

  “How man—”

  Before Redstone could even finish the question, Jackson answered, “I think ten or something.”

  “So they nuked California?”

  “No, man. They just screwed up the power plants. There wasn’t no explosions. The cores or whatever was damaged were shut down or something.”

  “Well at least it wasn’t an A-bomb. I would miss Brad Pitt.”

  Jackson grunted a laugh and then said, “Yeah, but this just means things will be bad all over for a while.”

  “This ruins my plans for a trip to Disneyland.”

  “Where you at? I can’t see your truck.”

  “I’m at work, man.” After a pause Redstone said, “I got shit to do.”

  “Like what?”

  “Touché.”

  “I reckon I’m going over to see what Daddy’s up to. Call me if you hear anything, man.”

  “All right, man. See you.”

  “See you.”

  Redstone sat in the dim hall watching the sunrise and planning out his day. Should I go get the mayor or drive to the Maryton police station? Actually, I can probably just call them and Webb. What the hell is wrong with me? Even if they are right about the power staying off, the phones are working for the moment.

  He was glad he was making these decisions alone rather than asking Bobbi Jo. Redstone slowly stood, began to walk toward his darkened office, and decided it would be just as easy to use Bobbi Jo’s desk since this room had windows. He stood at the corner of the desk and turned the phone to face him so he could see the numbers of the other local police stations listed on a sticky note attached to the phone. He was thankful he did not need to get out the phone book. He called the Maryton police station, and, after arguing with a dispatcher and being put on hold for a few minutes, he finally was connected to someone who might know what was going on.

  “This is Captain Amos. What’s your situation?”

  “This is Red—Officer Stone at the Dodge Police Department, and I was just calling to inquire if you had received any information on the current power outage.” Redstone was using his formal, professional voice and trying to enunciate every word.

  The cop on the other end of the line seemed too tired to bother reciprocating; his agitation said he had been awake most of the night, and caffeine and willpower were the only things that were keeping his eyes open. “Not really. One of the FEMA drivers who was driving through last night stopped by and told us the same thing the radio stations are saying: suicide bombers and all of that bullshit.”

  Even though this guy sounded as if he wanted to get off the phone, Redstone had to ask, “Did you hear anything about what they’re going to do about the power?”

  The other cop irritably chuckled. “Hell, let me just call the Department of Energy and have them bring some generators down here!”

  Before Redstone could respond, the phone clicked, and the line was disconnected. Dick. I was just asking. He called the other two city police stations in the county and received similar stories, getting nothing new besides a deeper hatred for city cops. Along with the cities’ station numbers
, their own station number, Redstone’s home number, and the mayor’s phone number were listed. When he dialed the mayor’s number, a woman answered. It was Webb’s wife, a woman whose name Redstone should have remembered.

  Kicking himself for not remembering this, he shot right to the point and asked, “May I speak to Webb?”

  “Yeah, he’s getting dressed. I’ll just go take him the cordless pho—oh, I’ll just go get him.” She laughed at her mistake. The power was off, but her laugh made it seem as if she was waiting for Redstone to laugh along with her.

  “Oh, that’s OK,” Redstone said between forced laughs. He didn’t find it funny, and his laughter was obviously fake.

  He heard the woman lay the phone down, walk away, and call out for her husband. There was an unintelligible conversation between the two and then footsteps moving toward the phone.

  “Hello?” the mayor said with a voice still raspy from sleep.

  “Webb, this is Redstone. Do you think you can come to town hall today?”

  “I figured I ought to. I’m getting dressed, and I’m about to head that way. Do you know anything about why the power is off? Linda called the power company, and they said something about a statewide power grid failure, so I want you to call some of the other city officials while I’m on my way and see if they’ve heard anything.”

  Linda, that was it! Redstone was a little offended that the mayor thought he needed to tell Redstone how to do his job. He wasn’t Redstone’s mom! “I already done that, and I already got all the information I need. So I’ll see you when you get here.”

  “All right. I guess we’ll talk about it then. See you.”

  Redstone uttered “see you” as he hung up the phone. Even though he had made only five phone calls this morning, it was already more work than he had done in a week!

  As he ended the call, Redstone could hear a car door slam. He turned his head to glance out the window and saw Bobbi Jo walking from her car to the sidewalk.

  CHAPTER 12

  July 15

  “ARE YOU SHITTING me? We have not heard a damn peep from you people in over a week! The FEMA trucks have even stopped coming through,” Redstone yelled at the National Guard sergeant first class who stood before him, arms behind his back, in Bobbi Jo’s office.

  The guardsman looked straight ahead and spoke firmly. “I am aware, sir, the National Guard has been deployed to several states recently. Yours is not the only state in need. We are here to assist you and other area police departments in maintaining order.”

  Redstone leaned back in Bobbi Jo’s office chair and blew his cheeks out. He looked disheveled, with a halfway unbuttoned and wrinkled uniform shirt; bloodshot eyes from lack of sleep; and, though he could grow no more of a beard than Jackson, a patchy five o’clock shadow. He was sick of this shit. He had never realized how hard being a cop was until he started doing work. And now all he wanted was to let these Secret Service dudes take care of it. When people had started learning through the grapevine that there would be no electricity for a long time, teenagers had acted like teenagers and stole candy and tobacco from both the grocery store and the gas station. So for the past few days, he had been doing nothing but traveling back and forth between the two whenever one of the clerks called. He had also been asked to keep an eye on the pharmacy, because even though no one had attempted to break in, the security bars on the windows would probably not stop a burglar—and since it was between the other two destinations, it would be pretty easy.

  One day while he was attempting to get some shut-eye in the grocery store parking lot, Jeff Pike had knocked on his truck window and scared the piss out of him.

  “You ain’t got to worry about looking after the pawn shop. I got it covered during the day, and I got security at night.” Redstone could remember Jeff saying this as he patted the butt of the pistol that he carried open on his hip.

  As Jeff walked back to the pawnshop, Redstone looked past him to see Old Ben sitting in his normal spot on the bench out front. That was weird. Maybe the Jedi Master helped keep the store secure. Maybe he was even Jeff’s nighttime security and used the force and Jedi mind tricks and shit.

  “That would be badass.” Redstone said this aloud, to the surprise of the National Guardsman, who had already ordered his men to unload and told them where to put their equipment. And it especially surprised Jackson, who leaned against the wall next to the door.

  “What?” Jackson asked. The guardsman was standing at the open window now and didn’t pay attention.

  Redstone was in a daze and seemed to speak as if in a dream, not really facing him but speaking to Jackson. “Old Ben is strong in the force.”

  Jackson just smiled and gave a sigh and a “whatever, man” shrug; he knew his friend was tired. Redstone had worked more in the past week than he ever had. Redstone had called Jackson over the radio while he stood in the middle of the highway in front of town hall after hearing heavy vehicles and running outside town hall to see a military convoy approaching from the direction of Maryton. Jackson could remember Redstone being almost elated that someone was coming to do his job for him.

  “Chill, man. They might be just passing through,” Jackson had said to him over the radio. But it turned out the convoy was going to stay, even though Jackson did not know this at the time. He got to town hall as quickly as possible.

  Redstone was standing and holding onto the corner of the desk for dear life, as if it were the only thing keeping him from falling over. Somehow this dude in the army uniform had made his way to stand behind Bobbie Jo’s desk facing out, already appearing as if he were in command.

  When he decided Redstone was securely on his feet and the other local was situated, he introduced himself. “My name is Sergeant First Class Abraham Samuel Sherman, and my unit is part of a National Guard task force that has been sent to disaster areas throughout the country.” He paused when he saw that Redstone looked as if he wanted to interrupt.

  Oh my God, this dude’s initials spell “ass,” and he has no clue. If Redstone had not been so completely exhausted, he probably would have pointed and laughed. But he restrained himself and simply smiled.

  When Sherman realized the local was not going to say anything, he continued. “Our duties are to help local law enforcement keep order and provide assistance to the general populace.” He stopped, waiting for any questions.

  Redstone thought there might have been a silent vowel on the end of this guy’s last name, or he had just misheard. Listening to this dude talk, it sounded as if his name really should be Abe Capone. The guy was an average-height mix between James Gandolfini and Joe Pesci.

  The reason the soldiers had given for coming to Dodge was that it was basically a middle point between all three cities. This explanation had been enough for Jackson, and he hoped this would be just one small step toward getting things back to normal.

  “We have food and drinking water in the truck.” The guardsman spun on his heel to face the other way and continued. “We also have detainment units in the MCU. We can use them if it becomes necessary.”

  Redstone said, “I don’t really give a shit. Whatever.”

  Sherman choked down a smile and said, “Yes sir!” Then he immediately swung back around to survey his men as they lifted crates out of the truck.

  “Can I go home now?” Redstone asked, sounding like a child who was done playing with his neighbors.

  The guardsman quickly replied, “Yes sir. I just need the keys to this building and for you to return tomorrow morning.”

  Redstone whined, “God, come on, man. Can Webb do whatever you need tomorrow?”

  “Webb?” asked Sherman.

  “Webb Cobb, the damn mayor! I thought that was his job!”

  “Sir, I was not aware you had a mayor—”

  Redstone interrupted. “If you want to call him that.”

  The guardsman took a breath and continued. “He will be welcome to be involved, but I would prefer to have a law enforcement officer presen
t when decisions of this magnitude are made. Unless there is a higher-ranking police officer within the town, I would insist that you be here tomorrow.”

  Redstone chuckled as he rose from his chair. “Hell, the other cop, Chad, disappeared the other day, and I get a bigger check than he did anyway. So I reckon you want me to be here.” Redstone walked a few paces. And when he saw Jackson stiffen, he stopped walking and replayed what had just been said. “What do you mean ‘of this magnitude’?”

  “Sir, we can stay in the vehicles tonight, but my men and I will need lodging soon after. I would offer you government vouchers to pay for our housing, but the building we are in is federal property, according to the Biden-Reid Act, and I would prefer this to be our headquarters.”

  “Whatever, man. Does that mean I get to stay home tomorrow?”

  “Actually, there are other decisions that need to be made. Martial law needs to be enacted. I do not believe it will serve much purpose, but a curfew must be initiated. Any firearms larger than twenty-two caliber will be confiscated, and all weapons that won’t be confiscated will need to be registered. If the Texaco next door still has a supply of fuel, I have vouchers to pay for that for our vehicles.”

  Redstone almost laughed. “Hell yes, they do. They haven’t sold any for a week, and the only way they can get it out of the ground is a manual pump. Nobody wants to do that.” Redstone remembered that talk with Jeff about martial law and was sure he would not have any part in confiscating anything. He turned back to look at Jackson and saw that he looked nervous as hell. He cocked his head as if to silently ask what the problem was, to Jackson’s almost unnoticeable shake of the head.