by Keith Taylor
The signal dropped out, but this time the static didn’t fade. Abi and Shepherd listened in silence for five minutes until eventually Shepherd flipped the power switch. “Better conserve the battery.” He stood, closed the antenna and tucked the radio under his arm. “So…” he said, unsure how to go on.
Abi pulled herself to her feet. “What should we do?”
Shepherd had been mulling it over through the last five minutes of static, but he still hadn’t come up with a decision. Not one he wanted to make on his own, in any case.
“The way I see it we have two choices. One is that we carry on to the cabin. It’s safe. We’ll have plenty of small game to hunt and plenty of clean water. It’s miles from anywhere so we’re unlikely to have to deal with other people, and we have pretty much all we need in the truck to survive long term. Medicine, tools, cooking stuff… We could live there for years, as long as we didn’t go stir crazy with the isolation.”
“Or…?”
“Or we head for the coast. You heard the radio. This isn’t just us, it’s nationwide. It’ll take years to restore power to the country, and you can be damned sure that rural Virginia isn’t going to be a top priority. If we go to the cabin we’re in it for the long haul. We’re talking about making a life up there, rain or shine, summer or winter. This thing isn’t gonna blow over any time soon. And besides, from the way it sounds the government has completely lost control, and I’m guessing those soldiers in Bedford weren’t acting on official orders. Martial law is one thing, but if there are soldiers out there who’ve just decided to look out for number one I don’t want to hang around to see what happens when they get hungry. So…”
Shepherd pointed vaguely in the direction he was pretty sure was east. “They said four hundred Maersk ships were on the way to help evacuate. Those are container ships, real monsters with deep drafts, and they can only dock at deep water Panamax ports. Anywhere else they’d run aground, and if the plan is to deliver aid and evacuate civilians they’ll need to dock. They can’t just drop anchor off the coast and ferry people back and forth.
“The US only has around forty Panamax ports that can accommodate something the size of a container ship, so it’s pretty much guaranteed that they’ll spread them out across every last port, and as luck would have it the closest one to us is only about two hundred miles east as the crow flies: the Port of Virginia.”
“OK, so you think we should go there?”
“Maybe, but it’s not that simple. I’m pretty sure we have just about enough gas to make the trip, but you should know what we’d be driving into. We’re not talking about some remote dock in the middle of nowhere where we can wait for a ship to just come pick us up. The Port of Virginia is right next to Norfolk, home to about a quarter million people. I don’t know what the cities will be like, but I’m guessing it won’t be cookouts and block parties. Norfolk will be dangerous. It’ll get ugly.
“So... our options are clear. We can either tell the world to go fuck itself and bug out to the cabin in the hope that we can survive out there, or we can take a risk. We can go to the port, find a ship and either get the hell out of Dodge or pitch in and help fix the country.”
Abi chewed her thumbnail nervously. “I don’t know how to make that decision. What do you think?”
Shepherd sighed. “I know what my dad would say. He’d tell me to get to the cabin, lock the doors and shoot anyone who came within a mile of the front door.” He pulled another cigarette from his pack, frowning when he noticed there were only five left. Abi snapped open her lighter and lit it for him. “Thanks.” He took a long pull, deep in thought. “You know what else my dad would have said? He’d have told me to leave you by the side of that track. He’d have said you weren’t my problem, and it’d be safer just to drive on and leave you to die.”
Abi cracked a weak smile. “I don’t think your dad and I would have gotten along.”
“Yeah… Yeah, I think most people would have agreed with you.” He tapped a length of ash to the floor. “I’ve had his voice running through my head all day. I listened to it as it told me to leave my neighbors behind, and I listened to it as I drove through my home town and left everyone there to fend for themselves. I’ve been listening to that damned voice ever since the power went out. The only time I didn’t listen was when I stopped to help you, and now I think about it that’s the only thing I’ve done all day that didn’t make me feel like an absolute asshole.”
“Well, for what it’s worth I’m glad you didn’t listen.”
“Yeah, me too, and it’s made me think. I don’t think I want to survive the way my dad would do it. I don’t want to just keep on breathing. I don’t want to hide away in some cabin in the middle of nowhere, patting myself on the back for being smart enough to get out while everyone else died. That’s not enough for me, and that’s not who I am.” He dropped his butt on the ground, stamping it out with his boot. “It’s not who I want to be, anyway. I guess what I’m saying is, are you in the mood to drive a little further? I’d like to see the ocean.”
Abi smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I’d like to see the ocean too.”
Shepherd grinned, feeling the slightest touch of optimism for the first time since the power went out.
“One little thing, though. Do you mind if we make a stop on the way? I need to make things right back home, and I have an idea. I think we might be able to save more than just the two of us.”
΅
:::21:::
SHEPHERD FELT AN odd sense of déjà vu as he guided the Jeep slowly back along the rough ground of the power company trail on the way back to Willow Falls. It had only been eight or nine hours since he’d driven the trail in the other direction, but it felt like it had been days. Weeks, even. Was it really just this morning? How is that possible?
He should have been arriving at the cabin right about now, if all had gone to plan. He should have been hiding the Jeep from sight beneath loose, leafy branches, unloading the supplies from the trunk and stoking the fire to cook his first meal.
The best laid plans of mice and men... What are you gonna do?
And besides, it was better this way. If he’d made it to the cabin he wouldn’t have had the first clue about what was really going on, and not knowing would have driven him stir crazy before he’d even managed to catch his first rabbit.
Up ahead he saw the forest grow thicker as it reached the road between Monroeville and Willow Falls, and as the trail narrowed he flipped his low beams on to pick his way back to the road. “This is where that guy shot at me,” he whispered, keeping his voice low as if someone might be listening in.
“You don’t think he might still be here, do you?”
Shepherd hadn’t even thought of that. “I… No, I don’t think so. I’d be surprised if he’s still awake by now, in any case. He was already pretty hammered before noon, and I doubt he spent the day sitting around waiting for me to come back.”
The asphalt appeared up ahead, and once again Shepherd flipped off the headlights. The thin sliver of the moon cast just enough light to see the road, and there was no point in drawing attention with the dipped beams if he didn’t really need them. He spun the wheel and rejoined the road, taking his foot off the gas and allowing the Jeep to coast back down the hill in neutral.
Up ahead at the bottom of the hill Willow Falls sprawled out over a couple of miles of land, a few clusters of suburbs and farms ranged around the small, compact town square. On any other night the lights of the town would twinkle in the moist summer air, stretching out into the distance, but tonight the land ahead was a sea of black.
“You got the Glock?” Shepherd asked, trying to keep the nerves out of his voice.
“Yeah, it’s right here.” Abi pulled the gun from the dash and rested it in her lap.
“Keep it close. Just in case, OK? These are my neighbors and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t kill anyone, but if the town’s already gone to hell… well, you know what to do.”
Shepherd slowed as they reached the park on the edge of town, tugging his flashlight from his pocket and playing it across the parking lot. Mrs. Klein’s station wagon was still there, but the ladies were nowhere to be seen. Just as he had on the way out of town he felt a pang of pity for the stern old birds. Right now the sky should have been lighting up with fireworks and they should have been holding court in the little wooden gazebo, complaining to anyone who’d listen that fireworks had been better in the old days, back when they only had sparklers and firecrackers and were darn well grateful for them. It was the only day of the year anyone paid the slightest bit of attention to them, and they’d be making the most of the audience while they had the chance.
They passed through the wealthy suburbs, just as still and silent as they’d been this morning, but this time Shepherd got the impression that the silence was intentional. Out of the corner of his eye he was certain he saw curtains twitch in the windows as they passed by. He couldn’t blame people for feeling suspicious. They knew the score. In a situation like this it was always the fancy houses that were looted once the stores were cleaned out, because the rich people always kept their pantries fully stocked. Shepherd’s grimy, rundown neighborhood would probably go untouched until all these McMansions had been stripped bare.
They were almost at the end of the suburbs when Shepherd noticed the light up ahead, a dim orange glow flickering above the town square. He slowed to a crawl, reached behind him and pulled the Mossberg to a spot between the front seats. “Be prepared to fire,” he said, quietly. “We might have to get out of here in a hurry.”
The Jeep reached the final corner before the square, and Shepherd pulled it around it at walking pace.
His jaw dropped at the sight before him. After a day in which he’d been shot at, rescued a woman from the wreckage of a crashed train and looted a Best Buy while soldiers executed civilians at the store next door he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He couldn’t believe he wasn’t imagining it.
An enormous fire raged in the middle of the town square. The flames licked at the sky, reaching almost to the leaves of the old willow tree from which the town took its name, and gathered around the fire what seemed like the entire town stood eating hamburgers and hot dogs. A row of a dozen or so grills lined one side of the square, each manned by the kind of middle aged dad type who seemed to have been born to stand beside a barbecue flipping burgers. One was wearing a jaunty apron with the message 'Kiss the Cook'.
Shepherd pulled the Jeep up beside the diner, still gaping in disbelief. Almost nobody paid the truck any attention. The adults seemed much more interested in the food, and the dozens of kids running around the square were entranced by the bright sparklers in their hands, laughing as they traced bright lines in the air.
Shepherd lifted the Mossberg and tucked it back behind the driver’s seat, hidden from view from outside, and took the Glock from Abi’s unresisting hands. “I don’t think you’ll need this,” he said, still not quite believing what he was seeing.
They both jumped at the sound of a knock on the driver’s side window. Just outside stood Pam, the overweight rosy cheeked owner of the diner, wrapped in her Stars and Stripes apron and tapping on the glass with a spatula. Shepherd pushed open the door and climbed out with the sense that he was stepping into a dream world.
“Pam, what the hell are you all doing?” he hissed in an urgent whisper. “Don’t you know what’s going on?”
Pam nodded. “We figured it out after a while, Shep. Watching you bolt was quite a surprise, though. I didn’t think you were the type who’d leave us in the lurch when things went south.”
Shepherd felt his cheeks burn with shame. “I’m sorry, I… I just wanted to—”
“Well never mind that now. You’re here, and that’s what counts.” She leaned back and took in the truck, her eyes growing wide when she saw the bullet holes and the shattered side window. “What the heck happened to you?”
“It’s a long story.” He looked around at the square, gawping at the kids running around with their sparklers, and when he spoke again his voice came out almost as a yell. “Pam, what the fuck are you guys doing? Don’t you know how bad things are getting out there?”
Pam poked his chest with the spatula. “You just keep your voice down, Jim Shepherd, we haven’t told the kids yet.” She sighed, her almost permanent cheerful smile slipping for a moment. “Yeah, we know what’s going on. We’ve had a few people come through town, and some of the folks here got their cars running and took a look around. Bob Stern got his old shortwave working. We’ve heard the news. And things aren’t just bad out there, they’re getting pretty damned scary here, too.”
Shepherd leaned in and whispered. “So what the fuck are you doing throwing a barbecue?”
“Burgers won’t keep more’n a day or two out of the freezer, Shep. They’re either going in bellies or going in the trash, and I don’t see the sense in wasting good food, especially now.” She looked past him into the truck. “Who’s your friend? She’s pretty.”
“Abi. Abi Ross. I found her down at the… you know what, it’s a long story, and I’m too hungry to tell it.” He hadn’t realized it until now, but the smell of sizzling meat reminded him that he hadn’t eaten any real food since his sandwich in the morning.
Pam nodded over to the grills. “Then grab Abi and I’ll get you guys a burger. Big Joe’s over in the diner with the Chief, making plans. They’ll want to see you.”
“Thanks, Pam, but first I want to find Ron and Kath. I think I owe them an apology after rushing off this morning. Have you seen them around?”
Pam froze. The smile slipped from her face and she raised her hand to her lips. “Oh, you don’t…”
Shepherd felt his heart skip a beat when he saw the tears welling in her eyes. She didn’t have to say anything as she took his hand. He could already tell.
“I’m so sorry, Shep. The Chief found them at home a couple hours ago, after they listened in to the radio at Bob Stern’s place.” She took a shuddering breath and wiped her eyes. “He says they went easy. Kath’s pain pills. Oh, Shep, I don’t know what to say. I know you guys were close.”
Shepherd leaned back against the truck, his head spinning. Pam’s voice faded into the background, barely heard. Ron left a note. The Chief still has it. Would you like to see it? Not much, really, just a quick goodbye. Best to leave on their own terms, you know? Didn’t want to be a burden. They really loved you, Shep. Nothing you could have done.
Shepherd could think of nothing but Ron’s expression as he’d left him that morning. That sad, deflated look of acceptance. There was no fight there. No determination. Shepherd should have known.
No, he did know. Of course he knew. He knew Ron and Kath could never survive without doctors; without a steady supply of drugs. That’s why he’d driven away, because he didn’t want to watch them die, and he wasn’t willing to take on the responsibility of caring for them. He’d chosen his own survival over theirs, and now they were dead.
“You OK?” Shepherd felt a hand on his arm. Abi, her eyes filled with concern. “What’s wrong?”
Shepherd fought to keep his voice from cracking. “I’m OK. Just heard that I lost some friends today.” He took a deep breath, fighting the urge to break into tears. “It was my fault. I could have helped them. If I’d just stayed here they might still be…”
Abi wrapped her arms tight around him, pulling his head to her shoulder. “Hey, it’s OK, Shepherd. It’s OK. I’m sorry about your friends.” She pulled back a little and wiped a tear from his cheek. “I know this sounds selfish, but if you’d stayed here I’d be dead by now. Maybe that’s… I don’t know, maybe that’s something to hold on to. Maybe your friends would be happy to know you helped someone.”
Shepherd nodded and forced a smile. Abi was doing her best, but there was nothing that could erase the guilt. Nothing could convince him that he wasn’t responsible.
He heard a polite cough, and looked up to find Pam ho
lding a paper plate loaded down with burger patties. “Sorry, Shep, thought you two might want to grab some before we run out. I’m afraid we’re already out of buns.” Abi took the plate with a smile, and with her other hand she shook Pam’s. “Abi Ross, nice to meet you.”
“It’s a pleasure, Abi. I’m Pam. Now eat up before they get cold.” She turned to Shepherd. “When you’re ready, Shep, Big Joe wants to see you in the diner. Trying to get a hold on what’s going on out there, you know?”
Shepherd nodded. “I’ll be right along. Thanks for the food, Pam.”
“Well, enjoy. Could be the last burgers we’ll get around here for a while.” She turned at the sound of a child’s yell and stormed off towards her grill, waddling from side to side as her apron strained around her stomach. “What did I tell you kids? Stay away from those coals!”
“Big Joe?” Abi raised an eyebrow. “Friend of yours?”
“I guess. He’s the mayor of Willow Falls.”
“And he’s big?”
Shepherd wiped his eyes, took a shuddering breath and let out a chuckle. “No, he’s… Come on, let’s go meet him.”
΅
:::22:::
THE DOOR OF the diner creaked as Shepherd pushed it open, and in the dim candlelight beyond he heard voices.