I ran over and carried Mary’s lifeless body to the curb for him. He contacted Father Tim, was a local catholic priest he called to come over and bless his wife’s body. Karl wanted his wife to have the last rights before the inevitable collection unit disposed of her body in an unceremoniously cold manner. The older priest rolled up in an old yellow Volkswagen Bug. I was amazed there were some of those cars still around.
Father Tim was about 50 years old with thin grey hair with matching stubble. He was dressed in a tattered black suit with the white cardboard collar. His black dress shoes had the shine worn off a long time ago. He was carrying a small black leather bag in one hand and the bible in the other. He immediately gave my neighbor a hug and gave his condolences. Father Tim opened the bag and gave an involuntary gag from the stench. He composed himself and put on a purple stole he retrieved from his bag along with some oil.
He made the sign of the cross on her forehead with the oil and said some prayers. Karl and I prayed with him for about 15 minutes. He zipped up the bag as the collection unit made its way towards us. Father Tim knew lots of people, including the people who ran the collection service. He didn’t want this widower to have his dead wife on the curb too long. He introduced himself to me and just as quick said his goodbyes to my neighbor and myself.
I told Karl to go inside his house as the grey collection unit was getting closer. He nodded his head in agreement and we both made our way up his driveway as the collection unit took care of Mary. Karl invited me in for a drink as reward for helping him and I politely declined. I made up some kind of story about how I needed to get back to my house and take care of something of vital importance. I think he knew it was all bullshit, but he had enough to think about and gave me a polite nod as I left him.
I’m not a heartless bastard, but I have learned in times of crises I needed less complications in my life. I couldn’t afford to take care of anybody else right now. I was afraid Karl would start leaning on me for emotional and substance support. I could afford neither. I had to take care of myself if I was to find my boys and survive.
Internet connections were getting better. So I started putting Sean Jr. and Collin’s information on missing persons electronic bulletin boards. I would check the responses many times during the day and night. Unfortunately, it would prove to be an exercise in futility. I never got any information about their whereabouts.
I did get the 4-Runner and motorcycle running. Most of the time I took out the motorcycle because it was better on gas. About a mile away in a grocery store, there was a huge bulletin board with pictures and messages of missing persons. With a heavy heart, I put up Sean and Collin’s pictures. I would try to go back there once a day to see if there were any responses. I would continue this ritual for months to come with the same sad outcome.
After a while, it would be the same people day after day. Parents, kids, husbands and wives all looking for their loved ones. It was all very depressing. I didn’t know anybody who actually found their loved one by using this board.
It was becoming more obvious to me that I was going to have to change my strategies of finding them. I just didn’t know how I was going to do that.
As a part of my new strategy, I would have to start traveling further distances. When the weather was good I could take my motorcycle. When the weather started to turn foul like it often does in Wisconsin. I would have to start taking my truck.
I had taken my truck around the block a few times after getting it ready and it performed adequately. The time had come and I packed the 4-Runner with ample supplies of food, water, emergency fuel and ammunition. Of course, I had ample firepower with me for this trip. I had decided to travel to Madison to see my friend Frank. I had gotten a few emails from him a while ago.
The trip from my house in Milwaukee to Frank’s house usually took about 1 1/2 hours if traffic was decent. I had no idea how long it would take and if there would be enough gas stations along the way. I would have to refuel one time. If there weren’t any stations open I would have enough emergency fuel with me to get me home, but I would try to avoid that.
I went across the street to see Karl and tell him I would be gone for a while. I knocked on the door and Karl answered inviting me in. Father Tim was there with a woman. He shook my hand and introduced the woman and Theresa extended her hand and shook mine. Theresa was about 35 years old, she had shoulder length black hair pulled back in a ponytail. She had piercing blue eyes and a bright smile. This mystery woman wore little makeup and had an athletic build. She was petite, standing about 5’2” but had a strong yet feminine way about her. They were sitting at the kitchen table with Karl listening to him tell the story about how he met Mary back in their college days. I picked up a strange vibe from Father Tim when he caught me staring at her. He was protective of her, almost like a boyfriend would be. It didn’t make a lot of sense to me. A jealous priest? I didn’t mean to be rude, but I hadn’t seen an attractive woman for some time.
Father Tim turned towards me when Karl was done telling his story and said, “I hear your looking for your boys. Maybe I can be of some help.” Thoughts of Father Tim being a jealous boyfriend quickly exited my twisted brain and I immediately perked up. “Yes, that would be great Father. Any help would be appreciated,” I said with enthusiasm, feeling guilty for thinking the good Father had a squeeze. I then felt even more guilty for lusting after Theresa in front of the good Father. Now I’m acting like a good Irish Catholic, feeling guilty about everything.
Theresa also piped up and offered her help. I gave them copies of flyers of the boys I carried with me all the time to hand out on any missing persons bulletin boards. Theresa put her hand on my shoulder and said, “Tim and I will do our best to help you find your boys.”
Tim? Okay, now this is getting a bit weird. This priest has to be banging this girl. I pretended this was normal so I wouldn’t offend anybody. I thought of the VW Bug Father Tim drove up in the first time I saw him. The yellow VW Bug, no guy drives those, it must be hers.
Who really gives a shit about any of this? As long as they are offering to help me the good padre can bang anybody he wants to, including this “Collar Bunny.” I told Karl, Father Tim and Theresa that I would be going to Madison for a few days and asked if they could keep an eye on my place. “You bet, Sean. I will watch it like a hawk,” Karl said as I headed for the side door. I could tell Karl was pleased that I gave him this responsibility. Father Tim and Theresa just nodded their heads.
What the hell were you thinking? You can’t afford to drag Karl into anything, including watching your house. You’re going to feel obligated towards him when he asks you a favor.” I didn’t want to be a prick, but I had to stay focused on finding my boys and surviving.
Could I trust this Father Tim guy and his girlfriend? I walked into my house. Maybe he isn’t even a real priest. He does however have a hot girlfriend, or maybe she is just a friend. Nah, I definitely picked up on a romantic vibe between the two of them. Does any of this really matter?
It was getting late and I wanted to hit the road early. It was later than I thought and I was angry with myself for not going to bed earlier. I’m going to need my wits about me tomorrow. “I never should have gone over to Karl’s house. I can’t let myself get emotionally connected to anybody right now. I walked down my stairs; time to crawl into my dungeon and call it a day.
6 Cambridge
It was 0500 and Dave Grohl and His bandmates were belting out “Congregation” waking me up. I’m glad I have electricity, even if it didn’t work all the time. I loved music and now I could have that luxury of an alarm clock connected to my I-Pod. God I hate waking up this early. I dragged myself out of my bed. Time to go out and test the waters of traveling and see if I can get some leads on where my boys are along the way.
I gathered up my weapons and made sure I had my retirement badge and ID on me. Travel wasn’t as restrictive for retired/active police officers. I Locked up my house and jum
ped into the 4-Runner. There was a gas station about six blocks from my house and I made my way there to top off the tank. I pulled up to the pumps and there were no lights on inside the station. The pump lights were on and I hoped the credit card machine on the pump worked. Hopefully there will be gas here. I swiped my card. It didn’t work the first time, but after a second swipe it hummed to life. I put in about 5 gallons and that topped it off with a smile on my face.
I put in my “road trip” CD and Bob Seger started to sing “Roll Me Away” as I jumped on I-94 heading towards Madison. I usually hum this song when I’m on my motorcycle, but this would work for now. The highway was slow going, even this early in the morning. There were lots of trucks on the road and police/military vehicles. I didn’t feel comfortable on the main roads and it would take too long with all this traffic. The main highways had mobile checkpoints that would clog up traffic something terrible. So I decided to take I-43 for a while and get off on highway 12. That would take me to Madison the back way which would be quicker, but also a little more dangerous. There wasn’t as much police protection in the smaller cities and villages. There were reports of “land Pirates” (Not the cool Jimmy Buffet kind of pirates) who took whatever they wanted from passing motorists or the unfortunate drifter. They were violent and didn’t care whom they hurt. They were however crude and not well versed in the finer art of combat. I was well armed and trained so I decided to take the chance.
There was a mobile check point right as I got on I-43 and I waited my turn to get through it. A soldier and a police officer dressed in BDUs with reflective lime green vests gave me the hand up and said, “Halt!” They both had side arms and AR-15s slung by their sides. I turned off my truck and put my badge and I.D. on the outside of my t-shirt. The police officer was on the driver’s side and the soldier was on the passenger side.
The officer was polite and said, “What is your business and destination today, sir?” I looked at him with a sheepish grin and said, “I thought I would go for a nice drive in the country Lupe.” It was Lupe Gonzalez, one of my cops I had on my shift years ago. I had a slight beard and mustache now and lots of grey hair that I didn’t have when I was on the job. “Holy shit Sarge, is that you?” he said when I handed him my ID that was dangling around my neck.
“What are you doing way out here? Shouldn’t you be protecting and serving in my neck of the woods?” I asked with a hint of sarcasm and pity.
“The feds needed bodies so I was voluntold for this duty.”
“You got out at the right time Sarge, things are pretty shitty right now.” I then told him about Sean and Collin being missing. I gave him one of my leaflet’s with their pictures on it and my contact information.
Traffic was getting backed up behind me and Lupe looked at his partner and said, “He’s good to go. This used to be my boss.” I was waved through without any vehicle search. It would have been hard to explain the firepower I had if they searched my truck.
I would be going through Cambridge on my way to Madison. My good friend and former colleague Ben lives there now last I heard. He was a Sergeant that worked with me many years on the force. He was also former military and was a weapons expert, among other things. He built the AR-15 I had perched behind the passenger seat of my truck. We had many a good time together on the force and he was a good friend. He had retired from the force just like me. He should have been promoted to a much higher position, but the brass didn’t like him that much because he wasn’t “politically correct.” They also said he was too cantankerous and opinionated. Truth be told, I think he scared them. He had a genius IQ and held higher education degrees including a doctorate degree. None of the brass had that kind of education or smarts. But more importantly he had common sense. Something that was lacking in our brass.
I made it to Cambridge without much fuss. There was a check point at the entrance to the city. I asked the local flatfoot that was manning the guard shack if there was a character named Ben with the police department here. I figured Ben would have some kind of contact there. My hunch was correct. The guard nodded his head yes and directed me to the police station.
I parked my truck in front of the building next to a Volkswagen Thing. I haven’t seen one of those for a while. It was a square vehicle that was camouflage green with the top off. A unique vehicle to be sure. It reminded me of the pictures of German staff cars from World War II. I walked into the quaint brick building that had large white pillars in front and well-kept flower beds. The desk officer led me to an office after I inquired about Ben. He had a sheepish smile on his face and led me to an office behind the counter. There was a sign on the door the desk officer led me to that read, “Chief of Police.” He knocked with a hardy couple of raps and the unmistakable voice of Ben belted out, “Come in!” Ben was seated behind his desk with his head down checking out some papers. There was a police bike leaning up against one side and an AK-74 next to him with the muzzle resting on the drawer to his right. Bicycles and guns were Ben’s hobbies and passions. It wasn’t surprising to see those close by him.
“Holy shit! They let just about any fucktard be Chief of Police in these one horse towns,” I said half laughing. It caught Ben off guard and he was stunned when it was me standing on the other side of his desk.
When he saw me he jumped up and gave me a hearty handshake and hug. “Holy shit it’s great to see you Sean! Thank God you’re okay! You are okay, aren’t you?” He said looking at the grey hair on top of my head and on my face.
Ben was about five years younger than me and stood about 6’1” tall. He was stocky with a little bit of a belly. He didn’t look like your typical bicyclist but few could keep up with him on a bike. He had a military short haircut and was clean shaven. He wore thick glasses and had a camouflage uniform on with a shiny badge pinned to his shirt that read, “Chief of Police.” He was very military, right down to his bloused boots.
“Yup I made it through the worst part. I don’t know who is worse now, Alpha or the towel heads?” Ben was a military veteran who believed in civil liberty and the democratic process. Ben got up and closed the door behind me and poured us both a couple of fingers of whiskey.
Ben and I exchanged stories of how we survived and some of our losses. Ben told me about a militant group from Madison that attempted to take over his beloved town. There were plenty of desperate people out there that were short on resources. These groups tried taking over little towns like Cambridge. They targeted these towns because there wasn’t much of a military or police presence. They didn’t count on Ben and his compatriots being well equipped and trained.
I told him about the unwelcome guest that met his demise by my blade. He also heard stories of the sick that went out into the poison air way too soon. There were stories of how they were “superhuman” in strength and had sickness that had never been seen before. “All I can say is, it took a lot to kill that son of a bitch.”
It was time to get off the doom and gloom and we reminisced about our time together on the department. For a little while all my troubles and the ugliness of what became of the country had disappeared. Ben also informed me he now had a bride and filled me in on all the details of meeting her and their courtship.
It was time for me to get off my ass and get back to business.
“Thanks for the rest buddy and the whiskey,” I said as I got out of my chair.
Ben got up and motioned me to sit back down. “Come on now. You just got here. Elaine would love to meet you. I insist you join us for dinner tonight.”
Elaine was Ben’s wife. I’m glad he met somebody that made him happy. His eyes lit up and he had a big smile every time he mentioned her, which was quite a bit during our conversation.
“I’m sorry Ben, but I have to get moving. I want to check in on my friend Frank and see if I can get any leads on my boys.” I started to make my way to the door.
“Hold on old chap!” Ben said in a stern voice. “You might need some of these.” Ben
went to a locked gun cabinet behind him, opened it with a key he dug out of his pocket. He grinned as he grabbed a box of 5.56 mm for my AR-15. “This is the good shit. It will go through your target and the five towel heads behind him. These beauties will send them all back to Allah!”
Ben walked me outside to my truck. “You still have this piece of shit?” Ben asked, laughing at my 4-Runner.
“Hey you’ll hurt its feelings. 300,000 miles and still running like a top,” I replied.
I pointed at the Volkswagen Thing and said, “Let me guess, this beauty is yours?”
Ben put his hand on its hood proud as a new father and said, “Yup, this little beauty has seen some action and kept me out of harm’s way.” He pointed at a couple of bullet holes in the door with a big smile. His smile faded and he looked me in the eye and said, “Be careful out there! There are pirates out there that would love to get a hold of your truck and whatever goodies you have in there.”
I jumped in my truck and fired up the engine. I stuck my head out the window and said goodbye to Ben. He told me to look him up when I went back this direction for dinner and to meet his wife. I nodded my head and headed towards Madison.
According to the last email I received from Frank, he said he was living back at his home after spending time in a commune on the East side of Madison. Communes were set up in the city with the idea that there was strength in numbers and everybody would pool their resources to survive. I did hear stories about how these communes had power struggles and not everybody was treated as equals. Hopefully I would find out soon enough.
Mad City: Book One of the Sean Walsh Post Apocalyptic Series Page 3