by Akart, Bobby
“Follow me,” she said in a loud whisper, followed by a coughing fit. Some of her blood sprayed on Peter’s shirt and arms. The young woman took the lead, and he scrambled to match her pace. Behind him, he heard excited voices shouting to one another near the mall entrance. There was no time to ask questions. He simply hustled to keep up.
Despite her head injury, she was much faster. Within a minute, she’d crossed the ring road around the mall and disappeared into a stand of leafless trees that two days prior had been filled with beautiful fall colors of orange, yellow, and red. Now they were symbolic of the dead landscape that surrounded them.
Chapter Fifteen
Saturday, October 26
Placer High School
Auburn, California
The nearly two hundred inhabitants of the bunker beneath Placer High School erupted into a chaotic shit storm. The chivalrous concept of women and children first that dated back to the sinking of the HMS Birkenhead in 1852 had been abandoned in modern times. Chivalry was dead, resulting in the women and children to be the first people knocked down as the occupants of the bunker rushed for the only exit.
Screams of panic and agony barely covered the sounds of bodies being trampled. Fingers and hands were broken as the heavy feet of the mostly male refugees stomped their way toward the front of the bunker.
The crush of humanity forced Lacey against the wall, causing her to call out for her husband, who was barely three feet away. Owen tried to reach her, but he was shoved off in another direction.
“Mom! I’m coming!”
Tucker became enraged, as he thought his mom would be hurt. He forced his way past two large men by elbowing one in the chin and grabbing another by the shoulder to pull him backwards.
People were clawing and tugging at one another in an effort to be the first near the door. Somewhere in the back of the bunker, the police officer was furiously blowing his whistle to regain order, to no avail.
Expletives were hurled and fights broke out as loved ones tried to help those who’d been knocked down, only to be shoved to the concrete floor with them. It was humankind at its worst.
“Open the door!”
“They can’t, moron! Everybody’s in the way!”
The whistle wailed continuously as the tall coach led the officer along the wall toward the front. Men’s voices were heard shouting instructions and threats. Women plead for help. The elderly begged for air. Children cried. A broad range of emotions permeated the air.
And the smoky odor continued to enter the space. Soon, the occupants’ eyes began to water, and many coughed reflexively as the scant amount of oxygen became mixed with the impure carbon particles resulting from soot.
Finally, Owen was able to wedge himself between two men who pressed their burly bodies toward the door, effectively crushing Lacey against the wall. Tucker was using his arms and upper body strength to hold them away from his slightly built mom. He’d calmed down after he was able to shield her from the initial crush of bodies.
The McDowell family was together once again after being caught off guard by the sudden panic. However, they too were suffering from lack of oxygen and the rise in the temperature within the bunker.
“Dad, is the place burning down? It’s so hot in here.”
Owen looked toward the door and ceiling. He lifted his shirt over his face and took a deep breath. “I don’t know. I really think it would be worse if the gym was on fire.”
“Owen,” began Lacey, “maybe we shouldn’t go out?”
“Mom, we can’t breathe in here.”
“But it might be better if half these people leave,” suggested Lacey.
The whistle grew louder in the roar of human despair, indicating the coach and the officer were getting closer.
“What are we gonna do?” asked Tucker as he was forcibly shoved into his mom, causing him to spin around, ready to fight back.
“I say we take our chances outside. At least we can make decisions for ourselves.”
“Stand back!” shouted the coach.
“Make room for them to get to the door!” a man in the crowd hollered.
Each member of the McDowell family was now forced against the concrete wall with strangers’ bodies pressed against them. The coach was pushing his way past, making matters worse.
“It’s almost over,” Owen said to his family, trying to offer words of reassurance.
He was right in one respect. The coach and police officer worked together to turn the mechanical locks to release the protective seal and unlock the door. However, as the blast door was opened, a whole new problem presented itself. Dozens of people had remained in the stairwell outside the door, and they wanted in.
Those inside the bunker expected a rush of fresh air and an opening to escape the smell of smoke. Instead, they were greeted with the full brunt of the soot-filled air and others who were trying to gain entry. The unstoppable force paradox was on full display as those on the outside, the immovable object, stood ready to enter the bunker, while those frightened souls on the inside, the unstoppable force, crashed into them as they tried to escape.
Once again anger, hostility, and alarm pervaded on both sides. The thirty-six-inch-wide opening was unable to accommodate the crush of people. The outsiders were dragged inward and shoved to the ground to make way for the insiders, who fought to escape the confines of the bunker. They ascended the stairs, knocking down anyone in their way.
“You can’t go out there!”
“I ain’t dyin’ in that coffin!”
“There’s fire in Sacramento.”
“I’m not gonna get cooked in a dungeon!”
The debate raged on amid the scramble to both enter and exit through the same opening. Owen and Tucker created a shield around Lacey to protect her from being further battered by the scared mob.
Minutes seemed like hours as the coach and the officer took on the roles of traffic cops in a busy New York City intersection with the stoplight malfunctioning. The hurling of curse words replaced the blaring of vehicle horns. The shoving and shouting of everyone in the bunker was no different from the shouting of drivers accompanied by fists or middle fingers waving out of their vehicles’ windows.
Ten minutes or so later, order was somewhat restored as the insiders and the outsiders traded places. Owen led the way with Lacey in the middle and Tucker close behind. They rushed up the stairs into the pitch-dark gymnasium, where people were laid out on the floor. Some were sleeping. Most were talking among themselves. And the sound of whimpering and crying was indicative of the despair they all felt.
The McDowells walked reverently past the refugees. As they did, they overheard conversations and speculation.
“The fire is supposedly north of the city.”
“I heard Davis was totally consumed.” Davis, California, was twenty miles west of downtown Sacramento.
“Yeah, it was. That’s where we came from.”
“It passed over the airport and burned Rio Linda. The winds just kept blowing it. That’s why we came this way.”
A woman was sobbing. “We lived in North Highlands, just twenty miles or so from here. We could see the flames coming. All we could do was grab the kids and rush out the door.”
Lacey squeezed Owen’s hand to stop him. “Does anybody know if the Bay Area was hit?”
A woman behind Lacey responded, “Honey, there’s no such thing as the Bay Area anymore. Direct hit. We could see the blast from our condo in Sacramento.”
Owen pulled Lacey close to him. She began to cry as she thought about their home being destroyed by the nuclear detonation. After a moment, she gathered herself and looked for her son. He wasn’t standing next to them anymore. Then she heard his voice shouting at them.
“Mom! Dad! Over here! Come on!”
Chapter Sixteen
Saturday, October 26
Auburn, California
Lacey and Owen made their way through the people scattered about the gymnasium to catch up with
Tucker, who stood near the front entrance on Agard Street. An orange glow could be seen under the double doors separating the gym from the foyer at the main entrance to the building.
“Is it daylight?” asked Lacey, pointing toward the bottom of the doors.
Tucker took a deep breath and pulled his shirt over his nose and mouth. His response was muffled. “No, you’ll see. You might want to cover up like me.”
Lacey and Owen did as he suggested. Tucker eased the door open, allowing just enough room for the three to exit into the outer hallway. Their eyes immediately grew wide as they observed the spectacular sky.
The sky was orange with hints of gray and white. The air was thick with a stagnant, dense haze as a layer of soot and smog-like clouds had settled in over North-Central California. The raging fires cast an orangish glow across the region, captured and held close to the surface of the planet by the layers of ash and soot.
“My god,” Lacey muttered as she took in the sight.
“I think the fire’s closer than we think,” said Owen. “We’ve gotta get to the car.”
“Outside will be quickest,” suggested Tucker. “There are people filling this entire hallway.”
Owen led the way outside and was immediately hit with the soot-filled air. He attempted to cover his eyes by burying them into the pit of his elbow. Lacey joined him and started coughing. Tucker didn’t hesitate as his parents did. He started up the street toward their car, urging them to follow.
Owen took Lacey by the hand and pulled her along as they ran to catch up with their son. They made it to the street where they’d left their car. It was empty with no signs of life. Most people were either tucked away in their homes, or travelers had found shelter inside the gym. It was eerily quiet as the three of them walked briskly past the school, occasionally glancing over their shoulders at the orangish-red glow over the city of Sacramento.
Tucker was the first to spot their cars, and his words said it all. “This is so trash!”
Trashed would’ve been more appropriate. While they were holed up in the bunker, someone had broken into their SUV and emptied the contents onto the street. Their duffel bags of clothing had been opened and thrown about. Their food and water that was once stacked high in the back of the Expedition had been stolen.
Owen ran both hands through his hair and shook his head in disbelief. He felt for the truck’s smart key in his front pockets. He remembered he’d left it in the ignition.
“I’m surprised they didn’t drive off with the whole damn thing,” he lamented as he approached the open driver’s door. He stuck his head inside and removed the fob from the ignition.
“Who has the Bronco’s keys?” asked Lacey.
“I do,” replied Tucker. “I locked it when we left the campsite. I guess they didn’t want to break in. See?”
His parents joined him as they walked around the Bronco. All of its doors were shut, and the camping gear was still inside.
As Lacey began to pick up their clothes off the street, Owen slowly walked back toward the truck. “I guess the battery died.”
“Why’s that?” asked Tucker.
“None of the interior lights are on even though the doors are open.”
“See if it will start, Owen,” said Lacey. She continued to pick up clothes and shove them into the back of the now empty Expedition.
Owen slid into the driver’s seat and tried to start the truck. There was no response. He lifted the glove box and searched for a flashlight he kept for emergencies. He found Lacey’s iPod and earbuds.
“Here ya go,” he said softly as he handed the device to his wife. As she took it from him, she pressed the sleep/wake button to power it on.
Nothing happened.
“That’s strange. I charged this before we left. It shouldn’t have drained in sleep mode.”
“Mom, it’s like our watches,” interrupted Tucker. “Something happened when the bomb hit. Remember? None of our watches worked after the lights went out in the bunker.”
“Son, toss me the keys to the Bronco,” said Owen as he walked along the other side of the Expedition. Despite it being the middle of the night, the orangish glow provided light equivalent to dawn.
Owen unlocked the Bronco and climbed onto the black nerf bar of the truck. The tow dolly elevated the front end slightly, requiring him to climb up to get in. He unlocked the door, and the interior lights immediately came on. The rig sank to one side until he was planted in the driver’s seat.
Tucker wandered toward the truck, nervously looking in all directions. There were no other cars driving around. There were no lights in the homes or emanating from the school. He glanced up at the streetlights that were spread out every hundred feet or so. None of them were lit up.
He rushed to the front of the Bronco and spoke in a loud whisper. “Dad! Wait! Get out of the car and close the door!”
His father was genuinely confused. “What? Why?”
“Please. At least close the door to cut the lights.”
Owen carefully shut the driver’s door and studied Tucker, dumbfounded by his sense of urgency. Tucker jumped over the tongue of the tow dolly and approached the driver’s side door, moving his hand in a rolling motion to indicate to his dad to roll down the window.
“Tuck, what’s going on?” Owen asked in a concerned voice.
Tucker looked down and carefully stepped up onto the nerf bar so he could lean into the window. “Dad, there’s no power.”
Owen looked around as Lacey rounded the rear of the truck to join the guys. “I see that. Maybe the fire knocked the power out? That’s PG&E’s specialty, remember?”
“Tucker’s right,” interjected Lacey. “Listen. Do you hear any cars at all? No emergency sirens. Nothing.”
“I think the bomb killed the power, Dad.”
“Okay, but …” Owen’s voice trailed off, unsure of an explanation.
“And my iPod,” said Lacey.
“Watches, too,” added Tucker. “Everything electronic. Well, except for the Bronco for some reason.”
Owen ran his hands over the top of the steering wheel and then unconsciously rubbed the slightly cracked vinyl dashboard.
“There are no electronics,” said Owen. “Think about it. This was made long before sensors and computers ran our cars. You need a key to turn it on. You crank down the windows. Even the radio is that old-school solid-state design. It plays eight-tracks, for heaven’s sake.”
Nobody said anything as Owen turned in his seat and looked into the back of the truck. It was jammed full of camping supplies and survival gear. They’d stored their food and drinks in the Expedition because it was climate-controlled during their trip.
He reached up and moved the small black manual switch that operated the overhead light. Then he instructed Tucker to step back so he could get out of the Bronco. As he opened the door, the courtesy lights mounted in the lower part of the panel turned on, but he shut the door so quickly they were only on for a few seconds.
A gust of hot wind washed over them, causing the group to quickly face east. After it passed, they turned back around as if they were looking for the source. The sight of flames dancing high into the air gave the family a new sense of urgency. They worked together to repack their clothing and salvage everything they could out of the Expedition.
To avoid using interior lights, Tucker climbed through the driver’s window while Lacey and Owen handed him their duffel bags. He crammed everything into the back seat while Owen disconnected the Bronco from the tow dolly.
Then the parents coordinated rushing into the truck so as to minimize the light exposure. Once inside, they held their breath as Owen prepared to fire the ignition.
“Here we go,” he muttered as he turned the key. The engine tried to turn, but couldn’t. He quickly switched off the key and urged the 1967 classic to start. “Come on, now, Black & Blue. You can do this.”
Owen took another deep breath as his eyes darted from one side of the truck to the ot
her to determine if they’d been seen. The orangish glow caused the skies to brighten further. The fire was coming. He turned the key again, pumping the gas pedal a couple of times as he did.
The engine started, and Owen didn’t hesitate. He rolled the truck off the dolly, causing the back of the Expedition to rise and fall as the weight shifted. Because the street was littered with disabled vehicles, he drove onto the sidewalk and carefully made his way to a large front yard where he could turn around.
“Let’s head for Tahoe,” he mumbled as he muscled the steering wheel through the maneuver. He was soon driving down the sidewalk back toward the highway where they drove in.
“North, on the interstate?” asked Lacey.
“No,” he quickly replied. “I’m thinking south, through the mountains and Eldorado National Forest. Less traffic.”
Oddly, his last words drew a laugh from both Lacey and Tucker. Normally, it would apply to a busy travel day full of cars coming and going. Tonight, it meant fewer obstacles to drive around and, possibly, fewer people to encounter. The scene in the bunker had awakened the family to one of the greatest perils they’d be facing.
Never underestimate the depravity of their fellow man.
Part III
Day ten, Sunday, October 27
Chapter Seventeen
Sunday, October 27
Fairfax, Virginia
It was just after midnight that Sunday as Peter stood in the middle of the living room of the woman’s apartment. Candles were burning on the kitchen counters and on a small dinette table nearby. On the sofa, three young faces looked up at him, full of curiosity and fear. To his right, in an overstuffed recliner that had seen better days, an overweight woman stared him down with a pistol sitting on her lap. It was pointed at Peter’s midsection.