Apocalypse Coming

by William Dunaway

  Red said, “And he’s also got 3000 rounds to go with it. Part of it belted.”

  I made a high shrieking sound and went over and kissed Wit on the forehead.

  Mo came out, and as soon as he saw it, he instantly went into that Mo laugh of his. “Between that and Mike’s M-16, we’re going to have some serious firepower. Wit, I don’t know how you got that, but I’m glad you did. You’re insane though. If they had caught you with that, you’d be a permanent resident of Leavenworth.”

  Carmen looked a little puzzled, so I explained, “Leavenworth is a federal prison, but it’s also where one of the main military prisons is.”

  Mo asked, “How did you do it?”

  Wit told the story, and then I said, “Well, get that in the house. We don’t want that stolen for sure.”

  As everyone headed back to the house and Tag to his jeep, I called Carmen over to me. I grabbed her and held her like she was my hostage. “Please don’t hurt my wife.”

  She hesitated for just a split second but then let her muscles go limp, and she slipped out of my arms. Of course, knowing Carmen, she’d do what she was taught. I had to force myself not to be prepared for it and let her slip through my grasp.

  “Good Job.”

  “Is that what you called me over here for?” she asked with her sweet smile.

  “No, what was the look for?”

  “What look?”

  “When I was talking about everyone’s job.”

  She hesitated and then rolled her head slightly, “Vince, you know I’ll do whatever needs to be done. As you said, we all have to work together and do whatever it takes.”

  “Yeah, I know that. What are you getting at?”

  “Well, I want to be on security. I want to be on the patrols and at the roadblocks.”

  I immediately started shaking my head, “NO!”

  I saw a little aggravation from her, “Now listen to me. You said yourself that I was a really good shot.”

  I interrupted, “NOOOO!”

  “Why? Don’t you think I’m capable?” She asked, now sounding a little mad.

  This was the first time that Carmen and I had ever argued about anything. I could see she was frustrated and a little angry.

  “Carmen, I think you’re capable of doing whatever you want to do but….”

  Now she interrupted and said in a very stern tone, “But apparently not this?”

  “Listen, Carmen; there’s a lot more to patrolling than being able to shoot really good. There are tactics, hand signals, and even knowing what to look for.”

  “Then teach me! You said we’re going to learn everything. I want to learn. I want to be able to help.”

  “You will. You will. I promise.” I replied, hoping this would bring the conversation to an end.

  “So, once I learn, then I’ll be able to go on patrol, right?” she asked, looking me right in the eyes, as she knew I wouldn’t lie to her.

  This time with some anger, I said, “Carmen, all of us guys have been under fire, and when we were, every one of us was scared to death. Even if you learn the tactics, it’s one thing to shoot well at targets, but it’s a whole different ball game when people are shooting back at you, or you have to look someone in the eyes and blow their head off. Plus, the likelihood of getting shot or killed in a firefight, is a very strong possibility.”

  “So, you’re saying I can’t handle it. Why? Because I’m a woman?” She said, almost yelling. “And concerning getting shot, I’m not important to the safety of the group, but you are. If someone is going to get shot, better me than you. Why is it ok for any of you to take the risk but not me?”

  “DAMN IT, NO! YOU’RE NOT DOING IT!” I hesitated and looked to see if we were drawing attention. I then lowered my voice, “Don’t you see; I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  Once again, I teared up. It hit me, just how much I cared for her. I’m in love with Kim and love her with my whole heart, but I care for Carmen a lot more than I’d even admit to myself. My love for Kim was solid. I wouldn’t want to live life without her. She truly was a part of me. But it just hit me that Carmen was important to me also. How can I explain it, when I don’t understand it myself? I knew one thing for sure; I’d never be unfaithful to Kim. I knew Kim and I were one. I couldn’t deny though, how I felt about Carmen. The strange thing is, I think Kim knew it. She knew it long before this.

  I knew I had to put these thoughts aside.

  I turned my head a little, so I wouldn’t be looking Carmen in the eyes, “Listen, I don’t want Kim, you, Mia, Brandy, or Angela to voluntarily put yourselves on the possible firing line.”

  I then looked her right in the eyes. “When I was in the army with these guys, we became brothers. I wouldn’t hesitate to jump on a grenade to save any one of them. I honestly believe that they’d do the same. But even though it was unspoken, we knew any one of us could “buy it” on any day. It was something that we accepted.

  With Mike, when he became a soldier, then a police officer, I had to accept the fact that he chose my way of life. Along with that, came the possibility of being killed some day.

  You can’t dwell on it; you just have to learn to live with the possibility.

  With Paul, I knew that if he didn’t change the way he lived, he’d end up dead or in prison. I love Paul, but due to his choices, I had to accept the possibility of him being killed one day.

  But under NO circumstances would I be able to handle the death of Kim. I would go insane, …. Damn it!...... and I couldn’t handle it if anything happened to you.”

  Her face suddenly turned soft. Her eyes filled with tears and she formed a very sweet smile. She then leaned up to me, and kissed me on the cheek, and said, “You mean a lot to me also.” She stared at me for a moment, then softly said, “I’ll drop the subject.” She turned around and started walking towards the house. She then stopped, turned, and said, “For now.”

  Chapter Twenty

  July 29th

  Paul had been on the road for about 25 minutes. He had passed several abandoned vehicles and several people walking down the road. He wanted to stop and give a ride to a family that had three younger kids with them, that was trying to flag him down. He had even applied the brake to stop, but then he saw that the family was only about a quarter mile from a farmhouse that apparently had a generator as the house was lit. Barney had told him that the Kansas line was only about 28 miles from where they were. Paul had to get out of Oklahoma before he could relax at all.

  He had passed through two small towns. When he drove through them, it reminded him of some old movie he had watched where everyone in town had disappeared. He saw some candle and lantern lights in the homes, but besides the few stalled cars, he didn’t see anyone.

  Finally, the headlights hit a road sign that read, “Welcome to Kansas.” As he crossed by the sign, he heard himself sigh in relief. He knew that getting out of Oklahoma was more psychological, but he didn’t care. It felt good.

  For some reason, he just didn’t feel like an escaped convict. He had the fear and even some guilt, but with everything happening, it felt more like the next stage of his life. He was determined that he was going to make up for his drug-induced past, no matter how long or short his future was.

  Within a couple of minutes, he saw that he was coming into Chetopa, Kansas. He could see an intersection ahead of him. He glanced at the map, “That must be Highway 166.”

  As he was approaching, he could see, what appeared to be headlights from apparently two different vehicles, at two different locations. Normally you wouldn’t notice something like that due to all the street lights, but with this total darkness, they stood out like a beacon. As he slowed down, he became very self-conscious about the loud muffler on the truck. “Man, people can probably hear me coming for miles.” As he approached the intersection, he felt like he was on a vehicle obstacle course, having to drive around other vehicles instead of red cones. It amazed him how many cars were stalled in a s
maller town like this. As he pulled around a vehicle that was right in the middle of the intersection, his headlights illuminated the convenience store that was at the corner. It looked as though there were about 20 teenagers in front and he could see several inside, walking around the shelves with flashlights. “There’s a store being cleaned out,” he said aloud. He could hear several of the teens yelling at him. Even though he didn’t understand most of them, he did make out someone asking why his truck was still running.

  He accelerated the truck, still having to maneuver around 3 or 4 more vehicles. He then realized that the convenience store was probably the local hang out for a lot of the teens that were out cruising.

  “Speaking of convenience stores, I need to start checking some abandoned vehicles for gas.” He knew not to do it in a town though. He was amazed how fast this truck was eating the gas. “I’m surprised this piece of shit is still running.”

  The truck had ripped seats and it smelled like a case of beer had been spilled in it. Down on the floorboard, it looked as though someone was spitting his chewing tobacco on the floor instead of using a cup, as any decent human being would do.

  As he looked up, he spotted a road sign that read, Oswego, Kansas 10 miles away. He didn’t want to go into another town until he found some gas. After about a mile, he saw a newer pickup stranded in front of him. He wanted to be smart and make sure he didn’t get shot by the owner of this truck, so he drove by the truck to scan the area ahead. He drove about a ½ mile, and he didn’t see anyone walking or notice anyone on the sides of the road, so he made a U-turn and headed back.

  He stopped about 20 yards from the truck. His headlights pretty well lit up the area. He grabbed the flashlight, gas can, and the hose to use for siphoning. As he walked up to the truck, he checked the driver’s door. It was open, so he scanned the inside of the truck. He didn’t find anything useful, except for a roll of mints that he found in the center console. He went back to the gas tank and tried sticking the siphoning hose down into the tank. “Damn it!” The hose was too large to go through the gas nozzle hole. Several years ago, the automakers made the hole smaller, to prevent people from filling their vehicle with leaded gasoline when it was still for sale, but it also stopped a lot of gas theft as people couldn’t use a garden hose to siphon gas.

  Paul walked back to the truck he was driving to try and find a screwdriver or something that he could use to either pry off the metal that reduced the size of the filler hole or at least make the hole bigger.

  He realized that he left in such a hurry, he hadn’t even checked out the truck he’d been driving. He checked in the glove department. To his surprise, there was a ¾ full box of 9mm ammo. He couldn’t use it for the Glock he had as it was a .40 caliber, but he thought to himself, “Dad always said that ammo would be like gold in a situation like this. Great trading power. But would it be yet? Later on, sure, but right now, most people with guns would have plenty of ammo, wouldn’t they? Maybe not. Most people don’t store up too much ammo.”

  He looked under the trash that someone had thrown in and “Bingo!” A Phillip Head Screwdriver. “That will work.” He decided to check out the rest of the truck while he had the chance. He started checking under the seat. “My God, these guys were nasty.” The area was just crammed with empty beer cans, trash and it looked like someone had thrown up at some time and they didn’t clean it up. When Paul saw it, he started gagging. “Oh, you nasty sons of bitches. To hell with this!”

  He then shined his light into the bed. There was a blanket covering something, which he didn’t notice when he got into the truck. He pulled it back, and there were a couple of gallon and a half gas cans that seemed to be full. There was also another cutoff garden hose. He smelled the liquid in the containers, and it smelled like gas. “Three gallons will get me a little further. Of course, the way this truck sucks gas, it may only be an extra 24-25 miles, but that’s 25 miles I don’t have to walk.”

  He also found a lug wrench. It was the kind that had the lug size on one end and the tapered part on the other, for prying off hubcaps. “Yes! This will be perfect for the gas tank hole.”

  He shined the light in the rest of the bed, which was just scattered with empty beer cans.

  He poured the 3 gallons of gas into the truck and then grabbed all three containers and the lug wrench. Using the lug wrench, the metal protector over the gas tank popped off after a little prying. He stuck the hose in the tank and sucked on the other end. The gas started to come out of the hose but stopped. He tried again, and the gas started but then stopped again. He tried one more time and his mouth filled with gas. He gagged and started spitting, trying to wipe it from his mouth area as the gas was stinging his mouth. He spit over and over again. After about a minute, he at least got to the point where he could handle the taste.

  Then he remembered that when you siphon, the end that the gas comes out of should be lower than the gas tank itself. He reluctantly sucked on the hose again and immediately shoved the hose all the way down into the 5-gallon can and this time, the gas kept flowing.

  He stuck the small flashlight into his mouth to direct the light into the container. As it was filling, he took the nozzles off the 1 ½ gallon containers. It didn’t take long to fill the 5-gallon tank, and he immediately moved the end of the hose over to one of the smaller containers. When this container got about ¾ full, the gas flow stopped. He tried to get the gas flowing again, but when he sucked on the hose, he could tell he was drawing mainly air.

  “Well, this guy didn’t have very much gas in his truck. I know this truck has at least a 25-gallon tank on it. I’d expect someone with a newer truck like this would have kept it fuller.” Then he remembered what he saw when he got to watch the news on television. Before the EMP, gas prices were soaring. A lot of places had run out of fuel. “I bet a lot of vehicles on the road only have a few gallons in the tank.”

  He grabbed both containers and walked over to the truck he was driving and stuck the nozzle of the 5 gallon can into the tank. When the 5-gallon tank emptied, he set it on the ground and just started reaching for the other container when he started hearing something down the road. He couldn’t tell for sure what he was hearing. It sounded like maybe something rolling, but he just wasn’t sure. It was an odd sound. Then, he did recognize a different sound as footsteps on the pavement. Suddenly he heard, “Sir, can you help us?” It almost made him “jump out of his skin.” He immediately reached down to his belt and pulled out the Glock and grabbed the light out of his mouth and shined it down the road.

  He spotted a man running towards him. Paul pointed the Glock and yelled, “Stop where you are!” He then heard a woman scream, behind the man and then another man’s voice saying, “We don’t mean any harm. We need your help. My son is hurt.”

  Paul shined the light on the first man, and he could see he was about 18-20 years old. “Come on in, very slowly.” He heard the rolling sound again, and he saw a man pushing a wheelbarrow with a boy laying in it.

  “My son cut his leg really bad, and we’re trying to get him to the hospital. Can you help us?”

  Paul, keeping the Glock on them, “I heard a woman scream. Where is she?”

  The man acted a little reluctant, “Come on in honey.” A woman came into the light from the side of the road.

  “All of you come on in.” They all walked up cautiously, and the lady was acting scared.

  “What did you scream about?”

  “I’m sorry, but when I saw you pointing your gun at my son, I just screamed out of panic. I thought you were going to shoot him.”

  Paul placed the Glock under his belt, “Sorry, you guys scared me coming out of the dark that way.” He looked down at the boy in the wheelbarrow and he didn’t look good. In fact, none of them looked good. They were dressed ok, but they just looked pale and like they were on the edge of starving to death. The husband and wife looked the worst.

  He continued, “Why don’t we lay the boy in the bed of the truck. He�
�ll probably be more comfortable there.”

  “Bobby. His name is Bobby.” The woman said.

  “Hi, Bobby. My name is Paul.” Bobby looked up and softly said, “Hi.”

  Paul lowered the tailgate and immediately was reminded of all the beer cans and junk in the bed. “Forgive all the junk, this isn’t my truck. I needed to get to Missouri, and a man gave me this to drive. Obviously, they weren’t the best people in the world. Why don’t you stand back and let me get rid of this junk?”

  Paul jumped up on the bed and just started shoving all the junk out the tailgate. He grabbed the blanket that was over the gas cans and spread it out on the bed.

  “Well, that’s not going to be too comfortable, hold on,” Paul remarked. He jumped over the side of the bed, got into the cab, and pulled out the sleeping bag. Under the sleeping bag was the case of water. Paul pulled out a bottle and held it up, “Are you guys thirsty?” All of them got a desperate look on their face.

  “We can’t take your water.” The man said.

  “Hey, I have plenty,” then handed them four bottles of water.

  The mother opened the 20-oz. bottle for Bobby and handed it to him. The older boy just started gulping his right down. His father had to tell him to slow down. Even the mother and father were taking some pretty big gulps. Paul could see that it had been a while since they’ve had a drink. The father said, “We haven’t had too much to drink since the power went out.”

  Paul unrolled the sleeping bag and laid it out on the bed.

  “Bobby, I bet this will be more comfortable than in that wheelbarrow.”

  “Thank you! Thank you so much.” the lady said.

  Paul and the father lifted Bobby up and laid him on the sleeping bag. Paul took everything out of the original backpack and folded it a bit and put it under Bobby’s head as a pillow.

  The man said, “Thank you very much. My name’s Amos Jones. This is my wife Samantha and our other son Joseph.” Joseph spoke up, “Joe, I go by Joe.”