The Journal (Book 5): Fault Line

by Deborah D. Moore

  “That’s very generous, Janis, and I approve. Max is a nice young man,” Trevor said. “Is Seth around?”

  “He’s in the basement with Max. They’re fixing it up like a bachelor pad. That’s what Max called it.” She giggled again.

  ***

  While Marty checked all of Janis’ window and door locks, Trevor descended into the brightly lit basement.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Monroe,” Max politely greeted Trevor.

  “Ah, Trevor. How are the newlyweds doing?” Seth asked, his dark face split with a jovial grin.

  “We’re doing great, Seth, thanks. Listen, we’ve been getting more information on this ash cloud approaching and we’re all pretty concerned. Do you have enough food and supplies for the three of you to last several weeks?”

  “Weeks? I understood it might be a few days at the most,” Seth replied, concern now lacing his deep voice.

  “It might be longer than that. And afterward, supply lines might shut down again,” Trevor said. “It might be a good idea to take Janis shopping again and stock up even more. And I think all three of you should go: safety in numbers you know.”

  “What would you suggest we get, Mr. Monroe?” Max asked.

  “More canned goods and dry foods like pasta and rice, stuff that doesn’t need refrigeration. And bottled water, lots of it. The city supply might get contaminated. It would be okay for flushing, but not much else,” Trevor said. “And go today. Oh, don’t forget dog food.” They talked more about what to buy and Max took notes.

  When all of them arrived back in the living room, Marty took Max aside and spoke with him quietly.

  “Oh, yes sir, I understand about Janis. Seth told me. I think she’s very pretty and very nice, and I promise to behave myself, sir,” Max reassured the chief.

  ***

  “Trevor thinks we should do more shopping, Janis,” Seth told her.

  “I don’t want to!” Janis protested.

  “Why not?”

  “Going into the city scares me! When we were there before, did you notice how people looked at us? They all seemed so… angry, and I was afraid.”

  “Trevor says we should have more food,” Seth pushed.

  “Right now I don’t care what Trevor thinks. He’s not always right, ya know!” Janis pouted. “I don’t want to shop, Seth, and it’s my money! Besides, we just bought a lot of groceries, and I think it’s enough.” Janis crossed her arms over her chest as a final statement.

  When Janis left to take Dot for a walk, Seth checked over the cupboards, surprised that there wasn’t all that much in the way of canned goods. They did buy several pounds of rice that were now in a sealed container and the boxes of pasta and macaroni and cheese mixes were in a different spot, all lined up neatly. He opened the refrigerator and felt better that it was almost full. The freezer held several pizzas and a couple of bags of frozen fries. Perhaps Janis was right: they’d be fine with what they had for food. Seth dismissed his earlier concerns and never brought it up again.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  “What are you two doing?” Trevor asked when he saw Christine and Marion digging.

  “Potting some of these plants,” Christine frowned. “If we won’t be able to go outside to pick the tomatoes when they ripen, they’ll just rot. What else can we do?”

  “Actually, that’s pretty smart,” he grinned and planted a kiss on Christine’s cheek.

  “How’s Janis?” she asked.

  “Janis is going to be fine. She has Seth and Max staying with her now. They’re circling the wagons, just like us.”

  ***

  The dark clouds out west moved steadily eastward, blotting out the sun as they progressed. Reports of the numerous deaths filtered in to the government websites and were quickly removed. The majority of the population had no idea how devastating the ash was becoming.

  ***

  “You sure you’ve got the right channel, Trevor?” Christine asked. “I don’t recognize that weather man.” The view shifted to the regular anchor.

  “Thank you, Andrew,” Cynthia said, her face frozen in a neutral expression. “And now for a look at the national news.” She shifted some papers and then read from the teleprompter. “From the reports that have filtered in, we now know that the 9.6 earthquake and the subsequent volcanic eruptions in Yellowstone were felt as far east as Washington D.C. and as far north as areas in Ontario, Canada.

  “Government officials are suggesting caution when venturing outdoors, and recommend that those with breathing disorders remain indoors until the possible ash cloud passes.

  “On a brighter note, the Atlanta Braves take on the Chicago Cubs tomorrow in a home game.”

  Trevor stared at the screen in disbelief. “The news is being whitewashed! The nation is facing a disaster of epic proportions and they’re talking baseball! I think we should have a private chat with Marty and Doc Adams, they might know more.”

  “What happened to Matt Zika?” Christine asked.

  “Remember how the screen went blank and then there was a long string of commercials the other night? My guess is he said too much and they’ve taken him off the air,” Trevor ventured.

  ***

  Trevor, Christine, Marty, and Doc Adams sat around the dining room table while Marion hovered in the background, keeping coffee and tea mugs filled.

  “What can you tell us, Doc?” Marty asked.

  “Understand that I’m talking to you, Martin, as the chief of police. This is not for public knowledge, so Trevor, Christine, don’t listen.” Dr. Adams gave them a rueful smile and turned away from them slightly to face only Marty. “The reports right now are sketchy, and few. That being said, I think we need to prepare for the worst, especially if the general public believes the pabulum they are being spoon fed. The reports are horrific to say the least. Those that venture outside without protection are dropping like flies.” Adams took a sip of his coffee to steady his nerves, though his hands still shook. “I’ve seen only one initial autopsy report that indicated the victim’s lungs were turned to pulp. That report is now gone from the website.”

  “So Matt was right!” Christine exclaimed. She turned to Trevor, “I’m sorry I doubted you.”

  “Who is Matt?” Doc Adams asked, forgetting he wasn’t supposed to talk to them.

  “He’s a regional meteorologist who said there would be fine shards of rock in the ash, and it would be like breathing glass,” Trevor explained. “And he’s no longer on that station.”

  “Censorship,” Marty grunted. “What do you want me to do, Doc?”

  “What kind of reports are you getting?”

  “What’s left of my force after these two flu outbreaks are being issued full face masks with respirators, and we’re to keep everyone off the streets, taking them into custody if necessary and relocating them to a shelter outside of the city.” Marty looked around the table and smiled. “Oh, and I’m not supposed to talk to anyone outside of my department either, so don’t listen. The military is also being called in, and as soon as the ash starts falling, perhaps as early as tomorrow, we will be under martial law.” He repeated, “What do you want me to do, Doc?”

  “Never leave home without your respirator for a start,” the doctor said solemnly. “And prepare your men for picking up and transporting bodies.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Moose Creek

  “You’re leaving?” Allexa squeaked out after John’s announcement.

  “I’ll be back, I promise. But I have to try and get to Christine, bring her back here,” John said. “If I leave first thing in the morning, I could be in Indiana early on Friday. It’s a twenty-four hour drive, I’ve done it before.”

  “But John, the ash cloud… it could beat you there,” she protested.

  “If it were your boys, you know you would try to save them.”

  “Yes, I would.”

  July 19

  “I think it’s best if I left before Eric and Jason know I’m going. They’re not go
ing to be happy with me,” John said quietly.

  “Well, I’m not very happy with you either.” Allexa wiped away a tear.

  She boiled a dozen eggs and set them in a plastic baggie, and then into an old blue cooler with two loaves of bread and a couple of cans of tuna, along with a can opener. She put two one gallon containers of water in the cooler first. One was frozen and would keep everything chilled for a day or longer, and once thawed, John could drink it when the other gallon of water was gone. Then she filled a thermos with coffee for his long trip.

  “You might need to bribe your way through checkpoints, John,” she said handing him some cash. “And don’t leave the Beretta behind this time. Take an extra box of ammo, too. The road is going to be a dangerous place.”

  “I have cash, you keep this.” He handed the money back. “But if you don’t mind, I think I will take Beretta with me. Funny how I feel much safer with it, and I think I should take your old car.”

  “No, you take the new one; it’s more reliable and gets better gas mileage. Just make sure you bring it back to me.” Allexa tried to smile, but it was difficult. They loaded an old sleeping bag, his duffle, the cooler, and one extra can of gas into the hatch.

  “This may seem strange, but trust me.” She handed him two packages of pantyhose, and received a quizzical look.

  “There was a TV special years ago about when Mt. Saint Helen’s erupted in 1980. One of the issues the locals had to deal with concerning the constant rain of ash was that it kept plugging up the air filters in the vehicles. They solved it by stretching pantyhose over the intake. The ash couldn’t get through the fine weave. If you get caught in the cloud, John, put one of these on the car before the filter plugs.” She was trying hard to stay calm, stay even, though she felt anything but. “And here are three of the newer face masks. They also have an eye shield. Not only can the ash damage the lungs, it can also damage your eyes. There’s one for your trip down if needed and one for each of you to come back. And please be careful with your wrist, it’s far from healed.”

  The car was fully packed and by six a.m. John was ready to leave. They stood awkwardly by the car, neither of them wanting to be the first to say goodbye.

  “I want you to know I believe you about the ash cloud, and I believe in you, Allex. That’s why I have to do this,” John said.

  “I don’t want you to go, John. Please, I’m afraid if you leave this time I’ll never see you again.”

  “I love you, Allex, but I have to.” He wrapped his arms around her, and held her for a long time. “I’ll be back in a week, I promise.”

  John put the Subaru in gear and pulled out of the driveway. As he started down the street in the pre-dawn light, he could see Allex still standing there, watching him leave. Again. His heart was breaking at the thought of hurting her, but he had to get to Christine. He had to make sure his baby girl knew what to do with this ash cloud coming and that she didn’t believe the line the government was feeding the public. She was still too gullible. Trevor was good for her and had taught her a lot, however, John trusted no one but himself to save her. Allex was a survivor, he knew she would be fine. She had taught him things he wouldn’t have thought of, things he now had to share with Christine.

  John turned into the gravel parking space at the doctor’s office in downtown Moose Creek across from township offices. The apartment above was still dark. It didn’t matter if Mark was still sleeping; John had to talk with him. This was not something he wanted to do; he did not want to send the doctor to Allex. He was certain Doctor Mark loved Allex, maybe as much as he did. Disasters did strange things to people, and Allex might just fall into Mark’s arms without John there. It was a risk he had to take; a risk above and beyond knowing he might never come back. He had to know that Allex would be cared for and loved. She deserved that.

  A sleepy Dr. Mark Robbins answered the door John had been pounding on.

  “What is it?!” he asked grumpily. “John? Is Allex okay? The kids?” he asked alarmed, once he saw who was standing there.

  “Yeah, she’s okay – for now. We need to talk, Mark, and I need this cast off.”

  They sat in the exam room of the medical office while Mark carefully removed the cast on John’s wrist.

  “The mining accident wasn’t that long ago, John. This fracture still needs time to heal,” Dr. Mark chastised.

  “I’m going down to get my daughter, Mark, and I don’t know how long that will take. I also don’t know if I’ll be able to find someone who can take this off when it’s ready.” John scowled. “It’s uncomfortable and in the way.”

  “I’ll compromise with you, John. I’ll take this one off only if you let me put a thin stabilizer on in its place. Anyone will be able to remove it with a pair of scissors,” Mark offered.

  “Deal,” John muttered. “There’s something else I need, Doc. I need you to go to Allex and stay with her while this cloud passes.”

  Mark looked up sharply. “What? Why?”

  “She needs someone, and not just her boys.” John thought hard. “I asked her to marry me, and she said no. I know you care for her, and she might care for you too. I think that may be why she turned me down. That, and I’m always leaving. I’m not a reliable man for her.” That was the hardest confession John had to make. “I might not make it back; in fact it’s quite possible I’ll be killed along the way. So promise me you will get to her when the ash starts.”

  “I promise.”

  ***

  John pushed the small green car up to 80mph and set the cruise control. There was no one on the Wisconsin highway: no cars, no trucks, not even the police. It wasn’t the best speed for gas mileage, but that didn’t matter, he was in a hurry. He drank some water that Allex had sent with him, and then he had another cup of coffee. He was going to need the caffeine to drive straight through the next twenty hours.

  Two hours later he spotted a gas station and slowed. The Beretta went into the waistband of his jeans as he got out of the car. After some negotiations John handed over a one hundred dollar bill for five gallons of gas which pushed the gauge to three-quarters of a tank. He sat for a few minutes, studying the maps he had for the fastest detour around the coming big cities, especially Chicago, and then he was back on the road, heading west so he could go south with the objective of avoiding any sizeable city and the major highways that might be gridlocked and would slow him down.

  The country roads were rough and winding, and relatively free from traffic. He took 64 to 45 south, then turned on to 49 to avoid Antigo; 29 led him to 73 south and he stayed with it for several hours.

  “Damn, this is going to take longer than I thought! Going through Chicago is sure a lot quicker!” he said aloud to stay occupied and awake. Outside of Watertown he saw a roadblock and slowed. There were two cars ahead of him being detained.

  The first car was being directed to the side and the sole person, an elderly woman, got out of the big car. Two of the military-looking personnel opened her doors and trunk for what appeared to be an inspection.

  The second vehicle in line was passed through the barricade after several minutes. John could see children in the back of the small blue car.

  Something caught his attention. He found it odd that the military personnel were wearing sneakers! The woman whose SUV was being searched started yelling and John’s attention was brought back to that scene, his senses now on high alert. Those two men were ignoring her protests and continued removing items from the trunk. The smaller of the two had hair down to his shoulders, while his partner sported a short beard. Neither one looked or acted professionally and definitely not military-like, regardless of the clothing.

  John made an instant assessment that this was not a real military checkpoint. When the guy at the gate motioned him forward, he put the car in gear and stomped on the gas. The soldier waved his arms for John to stop and John kept going, breaking through the brightly painted wooden sawhorses. He hated leaving that woman behind, but he had little cho
ice. He could only hope that all those fake soldiers wanted was her supplies and that she would be let go.

  John heard a shot and lost the right hand mirror. Damn, he thought, that one is a good shot!

  He drove even faster.

  He stayed on 73 for some distance, stopping once at a tiny, out of the way gas station, where he paid an outrageous thirty dollars per gallon, and thought it was a bonus they let him take ten gallons for that three hundred dollars in cash, a bonus he paid for with an extra hundred dollar bribe. The tank was full and he even managed to put some in the reserve can.

  He made it out of Delavan by driving across the median when he was pursued by a small gang on motorcycles he refused to stop for. The narrow wheeled bikes got bogged down in the mud in the center grassy area and the Subaru’s all-wheel drive engaged in time to get him to the other side. Northbound traffic was non-existent, so he stayed there heading south until he came to 39 south and skirted Chicago without further mishap. At 150, he turned back east and crossed over into Indiana.

  It had been a grueling thirty-six hours, far from the twenty-four he’d planned on, and John was exhausted from the drive, no sleep, lack of food, and the constant adrenaline. He plainly could not keep going without risking falling asleep at the wheel; he needed some rest. He pulled into a closed rest area outside of Mooresville, made sure the doors were locked, and reclined his seat for a short nap.