Michael, Patrick, Josh, and Manny had gone over to investigate the scene of the attack at the Franko house. But other than a broken downstairs television, some over turned furniture, and a smashed front picture window (over which they quickly affixed a piece of plywood), they found no one inside. There was no sign of the woman that Christine described in her home other than a light trail of blood leading away from the smashed front window.
As the group of neighbors convened in the Troves’ darkened basement, the intermittent sound of helicopters could be heard passing overhead. Every so often, during the lull between chopper passes, there issued somewhere outside a barely audible smattering of gunfire. A single lamp beside the bar was all that lit the Troves’ large basement.
“What’s going on out there?” Margaret Simpson whispered to her husband as they sat waiting on one of the basement sofas for the meeting to begin.
“I don’t know,” he shook his head. “Whatever it is, it doesn’t sound good.”
He found a remote on an end table beside the sofa and flipped on the television.
“Make sure that TV is turned away from any windows,” Michael said sternly.
Manny stood and walked over so he could adjust the angle of the television. He flipped to a local news channel. A reporter was reporting from inside a news van live from downtown Chicago:
“All I can tell you, Rob and Janet, is that it is absolutely chaotic out here. I can’t even go outside our news van for fear of being attacked by a Carchar carrier or risk being shot by National Guard troops or marauding bands of vigilantes who have taken the law into their own hands.
The National Guard continues to fly in more troops by helicopter to try to get a handle on the situation down here. But it seems like the more soldiers they bring in, the more Carchar carriers arrive. It’s almost like the carriers view the soldiers as a food source and are arriving in droves. We’ve had reports of several Guard units being overwhelmed by masses of those carrying this terrible syndrome. And I can tell you first hand that I’ve seen several of these infected people wearing army fatigues. So it seems apparent that the military is losing the fight to maintain order here.”
Most of the Blenders slowly meandered over to watch the news report with Manny and Margaret.
“Earlier tonight, I spoke to Major John Yeats, the commander of the National Guard units charged with securing the Chicago area. He informed me that he was requesting that the Governor of Illinois call up additional troops as well as request federal assistance in handling the Carchar situation in Chicago and in other parts of Illinois. He said they were trying to hold the city using the choppers that are so active in the skies around Chicago tonight as mobile cavalry units to move troops to area hot spots. And while I have not seen this first hand, I’ve received several reports via phone of helicopter gunships firing on large groups of the infected from the air. Several of my sources on the south side of the city also reported that they saw helicopters firing upon a herd of the infected when a troop convoy sent in from neighboring Indiana to assist with the situation got bogged down just outside Calumet City.
Suddenly the van in which the reporter was sitting lurched violently to one side and there was sound of muffled gunfire outside.
The reporter cringed, ducking down inside the van, but he stayed on task, continuing his report.
“There was a large group of infected outside the van earlier. They had moved up the street at one point, but now it sounds like someone is either firing at them or trying to defend themselves out there. I’m not sure which it is. And I’m not sure if its Guard units or one of these citizen-formed groups we’ve been hearing about. These vigilantes have been trying to assist the National Guard. Meanwhile, the National Guard commanders have been urging these citizens to return to the safety of their homes. They’re concerned about citizens on the street being mistaken for Carchar victims and mistakenly being shot by Guard units.
Guard units, however, are currently being stretched to the breaking point. They’ve been charged not only with trying to keep people off the streets, but continue rounding up the Carchar carrier population. Added to this, they are also working in tandem with local law enforcement to provide security for firefighters trying to put out the numerous blazes that are burning out of control around the city. Between broadcasts, here in the van, we’ve been listening to police and fire department scanners.
The interior of the television van rocked again, and there was a loud bang. The reporter, crouched inside, along with the cameraman, tilted, caught themselves, and continued filming.
We’ve heard literally dozens of calls go out from various fire departments around the city. They’ve been requesting additional security for their firefighters, many of whom are at risk of being attacked or have already been attacked while trying to fight these fires. I don’t know whether…”
Suddenly the television went black.
“Aww,” a collective moan issued from the Blenders watching the broadcast.
Manny hurried over to the router that directed the Trove household’s phone, internet, and cable services.
“Looks like service is out,” Manny frowned, nodding toward the router.
The lamp beside the bar flickered, went out for several seconds, and then came back on.
“I guess that’s our signal to start the meeting,” Michael stepped forward into the light’s dull glow.
“Things are getting bad,” Josh Justak said to him softly.
“I’m afraid they’re past bad,” Michael shook his head. “And I have a feeling it’s not going to get better anytime soon,” he spoke louder now so that the rest of the group could hear. “I think it’s going to stay this way for the foreseeable future…not for a few more days or even a few more weeks. We could be talking months, a year, maybe longer…maybe forever, I don’t know. I’m not trying to scare anyone here, but we could be in this for the long haul. There are more Carchar carriers every day. Their numbers are growing exponentially.”
“So what do we do?” Manny Simpson asked.
“Well, the way I see it, we either select a house or two and hunker down so we can hold out here or we load up our vehicles with as much stuff as we can and beat it the hell outta Dodge.”
The lights flickered again but stayed on.
“You mean to that place you mentioned out in the boondocks…your friend’s land?” Ms. Mary asked.
“Right…unless anyone else has a better idea,” Michael nodded.
“But if we leave, what about work?” Monte asked. “What about our houses? What if looters break into them while we’re away or the pipes freeze?”
The sound of helicopters passing low overhead drowned out Michael’s first words, so he waited until the thunderous rumbling moved off into the distance.
“You’ll have your phones…although I’ll doubt there will be service,” he shrugged. “And if people try breaking into your house, would you prefer you be here with your family when it happens? Or would you rather have them somewhere safe and away from those trying to pilfer your home? And as for the pipes freezing,” the lights flickered again and Michael gestured above him with a hand as if to support his statement, “I have the feeling that pretty soon, utilities aren’t going to be a concern because they won’t be working. Without electricity, natural gas, running water, sanitary services, and the rest, we might as well be living off the grid anyway.”
“True,” Monte considered, already consulting his cell phone, scanning a text sent from a co-worker sharing similar concerns about still having a job to return to after the holidays.
“But this place of your friend’s, Michael, what’s there exactly?” Victoria Hines frowned. “I mean, isn’t it just like a small cabin or something? How will it fit all of us? Where will we sleep? What will we sleep on? What about bathrooms? How will we heat the place? It just seems like we’ll be totally on top of one another.”
“I don’t disagree. It won’t make for the easiest of situations. No one said it would be a good t
ime,” Michael said. “But I think we need to start thinking about this entire situation differently. This is no longer just about inconvenience. This could be a matter of life and death. I think that to this point, for most of us, even me, this entire Carchar Syndrome situation has been a nuisance…something to have to work around and be wary of. But the situation, at least here in Chicago and many other major cities around the US…possibly the world, is becoming increasingly dire. And when the wheels finally start falling off, which it appears they’re starting to, they’re going to fall off fast.”
There was a loud boom and then a distant rumbling somewhere outside.
“What in the hell was that?” Josh Justak frowned.
“Nothing good, I’m sure,” his wife gritted her teeth and grimaced.
Suddenly, and without warning, there was an ear-splitting roar overhead that faded almost as quickly.
“Good God!” Juan Mendoza cried, hunching his shoulders up to his neck. “What was that?!”
Several of the younger Blender kids were crouched down or had their hands over their ears from the deafening noise.
“Fighter jets,” Michael peered up at the ceiling. “Probably on their way downtown to support some of those National Guard units who were cut off by the Carchar carriers.”
“Do you think that’s what that rumbling sound was?” Ms. Mary asked. “Do you think they dropped a bomb somewhere?”
Michael gave a tight-lipped shrug. “Possibly,” he said. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t be surprised. What I do know is that with the amount of military activity going on, it’s telling us that things aren’t getting better. If they are in fact firing rockets or dropping bombs, it means that things on the ground are getting out of control. And if the National Guard or army can’t keep things safe here, how are we going to?”
There was a moment of silence among the group as they contemplated the situation.
During the lull in the debate about what to do, the bar-side lamp went off and stayed off.
“Patrick,” Michael called, “grab us some flashlights.”
A few minutes later, Patrick was back with several flashlights and a portable lantern that he set atop the bar.
Michael flipped the faucet to the bar sink on. “Still got water,” he said. “If we don’t leave tonight, I’d advise everyone to fill up their bathtubs and as many pots and clean containers as possible with fresh water.”
“But you think we should leave…get out of Chicago?” Julia Justak asked.
“Don’t get me wrong. I really don’t want to,” Michael tried to explain his stance on the matter. “I’d prefer to stay right here. This is my comfort zone, just like it is for all of you. But I’m afraid that if we stay now, even if we make the decision to go later, it might be too late. We could find ourselves in an urban deathtrap where if these Carchar carriers don’t get us, the people fighting for supplies might.”
“But if we decide to go, when should we do it? Tonight? Tomorrow morning? Tomorrow night? I mean, we have to load up all our stuff,” Victoria Hines said somewhat dejectedly.
“If we leave now, and by now, I mean sometime tonight, like around midnight, once most people are asleep, I think we have a good shot of making it,” Michael clarified. “The roads and highways should still be somewhat clear, hopefully. And not too many people should be ahead of us trying to flee the city. But if we wait, even if it’s just until daybreak, it could be too late. Others will have made the decision to leave, especially if things don’t get better by morning and the power is still off. The roads will be jammed. You’ll have people panicking on the interstate. Vehicles that haven’t prepared will be running out of gas. And people who don’t have vehicles will be trying to steal them from those who do.”
“So you’re telling us that we should go tonight?!” Suzana Mendoza looked somewhat aghast in the dim glare of the portable lantern.
“I’m not telling you to do anything,” Michael said. “I’m just voicing my opinion and trying to lay out some possible scenarios. There’s no way of knowing exactly what might happen in a situation like this. None of us have ever been through this type of thing before. Nor have most of us considered all the possible scenarios or outcomes. I just want us to be as well informed as possible before we make a group decision.”
Michael didn’t want to be responsible for hauling his group of friends and loved ones out into the middle of nowhere in the late-December weather. But he was extremely concerned about remaining in Chicago during what could prove to be an apocalyptic situation. He wanted everyone to come to a group consensus without his being completely responsible for the decision should it prove incorrect.
“I say we go,” young Jack Franko nodded bravely. “So I miss a little school. That’s fine with me. I can take some books along, and they can give me my assignments online if I’m not around.”
Michael chuckled softly to himself at the boy’s innocence regarding what was going on around them.
“Yeah, me too,” chimed in Justin Justak, picking up on Jack’s line of reasoning regarding missing school.
“Well, I have to say that after tonight’s little experience with one of those infected people…Carchar carriers, biters, whatever you want to call them, I agree with my son,” Christine Franko agreed. “While I don’t like the idea of the boys missing school, I tend to think that the schools are going to stay closed for the foreseeable future with the way things are playing out. And I would like to get as far way from those vicious beasts as possible. They’re horrible. Whatever I have to do to protect my kids…whatever is in their best interest right now, I’m willing to do it,” she pulled Jack close to her and petted his head. “Job, career, possessions, house…I don’t care,” she shook her head, starting to get emotional. “As long as my boys are safe, I’ll go anywhere and do anything. And I trust Michael’s opinion when it comes to stuff like this. He may not know the outcome or be able to plan for everything, but he’s certainly got a better handle on this sort of stuff than any of the rest of us…no offense to any of you,” she nodded around at the rest of the group. “Plus, if the power and other utilities go out, we’re going to be in the same boat in either place. I’d rather have us all centrally located and working collectively without fear of other people than have us all split up among our various homes and all trying to stay safe on our own.”
“But won’t we be better off with all our stuff here?” Margaret Simpson asked. “We’ll have more pillows, blankets, our beds, tools, access to fuel, that sort of stuff.”
“That’s a good point, but we can take some stuff like that with us,” countered her husband. “You have to remember, if we stay here, we’ll not only have to contend with the roaming Carchar carriers, who apparently want to stay warm and fed too, but people who may have been displaced or are out scavenging for the same resources you just mentioned. And they’ll likely be willing to take them by force. Out in the country, we’ll probably be pretty isolated, right Michael?”
Michael nodded. “As far as I know. Last time I was out there, we didn’t see another person for the entire week we were there. And it was good weather then, so I can’t imagine there’d be many, if any people around at this time of year.”
“How long do you think it will take us to get there if we decide to go?” Ms. Mary asked.
“Once we’re all packed up?” Michael considered. “Mmm…probably about four hours depending on whether or not we encounter any hiccups along the way. We should be able to make it on a single tank of gas…that is if you all kept your vehicles full of fuel,” Michael eyed his audience hopefully.
There were sullen nods from around the group as the reality of the situation and what they might be facing began to set in.
“I’m not trying to convince anyone here. I’m just playing devil’s advocate,” Michael explained. “Sure, I’m personally leaning more toward getting the hell outta Dodge while we still can, but I’m willing to go with whatever the group collectively decides.”
; He looked around at the others. “Shall we put it to a vote?”
The Blenders looked back and forth between one another indecisively.
“I think it’s time,” Josh finally nodded. “We can’t sit here all night debating it, because if we do, we might find the decision made for us by…” he paused as more jet fighters roared overhead, “…forces outside our control.”
“Can we take a minute to talk about this among ourselves before we vote?” Monte Hines asked.
“Sure,” Michael nodded. “Let’s take a ten minute bathroom break and then we can reconvene down here to vote. Sound good?”
There were murmurs of confirmation from around the basement as the families broke to use the restroom or confer among themselves.
Josh Justak came up to Michael after the group broke for their break. “You sure about this?” he asked.
“Sure about what?” Michael frowned.
“About this place out in the boonies. It’s still there? The guy who owns this place is fine with us using it? All of us?”
“He was fine with it when I talked to him a month ago, and if he’s not now, it’s a little late.”
“You think the group will vote to go?” Josh asked as Julia and Justin sauntered up beside him.
Michael shrugged. “Don’t know.”
“Well, you have our vote,” Julia nodded.
“But that’s the thing,” Michael sighed heavily. “It’s not me who wants your vote. Your vote should be for you, and for Josh, and for Justin, and for what’s best for you.”
“And what’s best for the group,” Josh nodded.
“Of course,” agreed Michael. “But since you’re a part of that group, then that includes you. All I really want is to do what will give us the best chance at staying safe, not just tonight or tomorrow but for the next few weeks or even months. And right now, it’s impossible to say what that course of action will be. Do we sit tight and hope for our government to save the day? Or do we take things into our own hands? That’s why I want this vote. Because if people decide they don’t want to leave their homes, then I’ll be fine with that and will do whatever I can to help people stay safe here in Brookfield.”
The Last Bastion (Book 1): The Last Bastion Page 19