by P. A. Glaspy
Roman had plugged an earbud into the small recording device Vanessa had handed him and was listening to the conversation between her and the president from the previous evening and moments before. When he got to the part about the president refusing to step down for his predecessor, he paused it. "Neither do I, Mr. President. In fact, none of us do. But we're going to come up with a plan together. We'll start hammering that out this morning as soon as everyone else gets here."
"I already have a plan! I told you all yesterday what the plan is! We don't need a meeting. I need you all to do what I told you to do, what your Commander-in-Chief ordered you to do! Get our troops home, start confiscating weapons and ammo, and collecting supplies. How hard is that to understand?" Olstein was screaming hysterically at this point.
"That's not going to happen, Sir," Roman said calmly. "We're not going to start attacking the American people. We’re not going to begin one of the darkest times in our history with destroying the very rights and freedoms we’ve fought so hard to protect. Please take a seat, Mr. President. The others will be here any minute."
"How dare you tell me what to do! Get out! Both of you!"
Everley walked in and took the seat Vanessa had vacated. Reaching over to her plate, he picked up a piece of cold toast and took a bite. "I think I'm fine right here."
Roman sat next to him. "We're not leaving, Barton. And you can't fire us. I'd suggest you work with us. You won't like the alternative."
Chapter 9
Damon was riding shotgun to give his leg a break. Kevin Blake was driving, leaning forward in an attempt to see out the windshield through the blinding snow. The wipers were on high, but they weren’t helping. Winter storms are bad; on the East coast, with influence from the Atlantic Ocean, they can become blizzards quickly. It looked like this one was doing just that.
"Did anybody check The Weather Channel this morning to see what the forecast was going to be? Oh, wait …" Darrell Light laughed at his own joke. Hutch chuckled beside him.
"It does make you wonder though, doesn't it?" Hutch replied. "I mean, the satellites are still up there. If the damage is limited to this country, other places like England and Russia can still get that information. We obviously have some communications." Damon held up the sat phone as evidence.
"Yeah, but the problem comes back to we have no power here," Darrell said. "Even if we could get the information from someone else, we have no way to distribute it. None. Who knows how long it will take to get that ability back? It's mind blowing, man."
"I can tell you the forecast. Snow. Lots of it. Visibility zero. Stay off the streets because there's no snow plows. Unless, of course, you have a mission. Good luck with that. It's gonna suck to be you." Kevin's commentary was delivered dead pan but elicited laughs none the less.
"Let me know if you need a break, Kevin," Damon said. "I know that's got to be killing your neck and shoulders driving like that."
"I'm good for now. Figure we better keep moving since we have the momentum to plow through the snow. If this doesn't slow down, we're going to have a lot of trouble getting anywhere quick. I can't even imagine what New York City is going to be like – dead cars and cabs on every major street. We may be doing a different kind of plowing there. You know, plowing through dead cars."
"We'll also have to be vigilant, gentlemen," Hutch replied. "No matter what Sorley has seen up to this point of his trip, it will be nothing compared to what we'll see there." His statements were met with murmurings of consent.
As they got close to the parking lot where Damon had been attacked the night before, he leaned in to see if anyone was still there. The place was deserted. Apparently, the blizzard conditions had driven them all indoors. He pointed out the area to the others as the place he had told them about the previous evening. Hutch looked it over with a critical eye.
"If you had enough people, I can see how this would be a good spot for that. Pretty open so you could see someone coming for a while — that is, if it wasn't snowing sideways."
"Yeah, but that works both ways. I can see them as well as they can see me from my operational vehicle for … what, a quarter, half a mile if it's clear? I could take a side street, or just put my foot in it and keep going," Darrell added.
"I just hope that guy I hit is okay … you know, nothing serious," Damon said. "I haven't checked, but I'm guessing there's no one working at any of the hospitals. Plus, how would they get him to one? No ambulances, no way to call one …" He trailed off in contemplation of the situation.
"Oh man! What if some chick goes into labor? Looks like home deliveries will be making a comeback." Darrell looked thoughtful for a moment, then his face became solemn. "And home deaths."
Hutch and the others nodded. "I'd say by now, any hospitals that had generators that made it through the pulse are out of fuel. They are set up to run eight to twenty-four hours max. That means anybody on life support is gone. If they have no power, would the doctors and nurses even be there?"
"Shit, can you imagine the smell in a few days? No hearses to pick up the bodies of the deceased. What will they do, just leave them where they die? That won't be too healthy." Damon shuddered as he said it.
"My dad is a doctor," Kevin said. "He's a GP; but if he were at the hospital when it went down, he'd be there until he couldn't do anything else to help. He'd work by flashlight if he had to and he could help someone. But he's also practical. When he realized what this was — and he would, cuz he's smart like that — he'd be on his way home to Mom. I mean, is it right to expect people to continue to work at a job they aren't getting paid for if they have family to take care of? Would doctors, nurses, policemen, firemen, anything like that, even go to work anymore?"
"Hey dumbass, you the pot or the kettle there?" Hutch snickered.
Kevin shook his head. "Nah, it's different for us. We didn't have family waiting for us to come home, and we were already there. Hell, I was a whole lot better off at the armory than at my place. I probably had half a box of stale cereal, a can of tuna, and a couple of beers at home. Right now, I'll work for food and a warm — make that dry — place to lay my head. Warm may be a few months out."
"My guess is there will be other people like that out there," Darrell said. "Especially when the food is gone. Unfortunately, some of them may be willing to do some unsavory things if they're hungry."
"Hunger is supposedly a strong motivator. Most people in this country have never been hungry, not really, unless they've been homeless." Damon paused for a moment then went on. "Did you see that movie Alive? They ate the people who died from the crash. Could you do that? Would you do that?"
"God, I hope I don't have to find out," Kevin commented, eyes still glued to the windshield. "It makes me want to hurl just thinking about it. Seriously, please tell me we aren't going to go there. Like, ever."
"Never say never," Darrell replied. "My guess is a year from now, we won't even recognize this country anymore. Hell, maybe sooner."
"Dude, I will have to be on death's door, and then you still better not tell me what it is because I know I couldn't do it." Kevin gagged at the thought. "Can we talk about something else, please? Holy shit look at that!"
They were on Johnson Drive, approaching the place where it turned to run parallel to Memorial Parkway. They could faintly see the Raritan River ahead. Well, where they knew the river was. It was covered with snow as high as the highway, so that they couldn't tell where either one started or ended. It looked like it was all the same level.
"Man, I wouldn't want to be trying to drive too close to that," Darrell said in awe. "How could you tell where the road was? You could end up in the river."
"Street lights for one," Hutch replied. "They line a street. Without plows, we're going to have to learn to navigate differently."
Damon added, "Without plows, how is anyone in this part of the country going to be able to drive at all, even if they do have a vehicle that works now? The Northeast can get four, six, even up to eight feet o
f snow in a bad year, and that's not even counting the drifts. You can't drive in that."
Darrell's eyes lit up. "I've got a brilliant idea! We can start a new business. We'll get a plow and attach it to the front of a Humvee — you know, one that actually works like this one — and we'll charge people to plow streets and stuff. We'll be rich!"
Hutch looked at him incredulously. "What are they going to pay you with, genius? Money isn't going to mean shit real soon, if it even means anything now. When food is scarce, no one is going to sell it. Food will be the new currency. Well, that and guns and ammo."
"What do you mean?" Darrell asked.
"Think about it. Like Damon said, most people in this country have never not been able to get food to eat. It's there in the stores, on the shelf, in the freezer. Drive up to a window and they hand it to you. That all stopped yesterday. Want to know why there was looting already? Because most people, and I'm including myself in that, don't have a lot of food in their homes. Some eat out every day. Very few people were ready for something this."
Kevin piped up from the front, "Except the Mormons. I think they're supposed to have like a year's worth of food stored all the time. Oh, and those doomsday prepper guys. They have tons of food and ammo."
"And I guarantee you they are not willing to part with any of it," Hutch replied. "They're sitting pretty right now, hunkered down for the long haul. They won't care if the streets are clear. In fact, they'd probably prefer them to be impassible. That way no one can come knocking on their door, or worse, kicking it in … not easily anyway."
Darrell sighed. "Well, shit. Scratch that idea. I guess we'll have to do some soldiering instead. I'll take MREs or peanut butter crackers for payment. I don't care as long as it's food. How about you guys?"
Thumbs up from the rest of the Humvee's occupants brought the conversation to a lull. After a quiet moment, the sat phone rang. The sound made them all jump. Nervous chuckles filled the cab as Damon answered the phone.
"Sorley."
"Major? This is Everley. Are you back on the road?"
"Yes, Sir. We pulled out of the armory about an hour ago. Travel is extremely slow with this heavy snow."
"We?" Everley barked. "Did you not understand this was to be a covert operation?"
"I did, General, but after everything I saw yesterday, I didn't think my chances were very good to succeed if I continued alone, especially once I got to New York City. The good news is I'm bringing you three more men."
Everley stopped to consider what Damon had said. "Alright, Major, I guess that was a good decision on your part. I wanted to let you know that Mr. Tanner should be in his penthouse, which, unfortunately, is on the fifty-eighth floor of his building. You know what that means."
Taking a deep breath and blowing it out slowly, Damon replied, "Yes, sir. It means we've got a hell of a climb when we get there. No worries, Sir. We'll get it done."
"How long until you get to the city?"
"At the pace we're able to move, probably a couple of hours, maybe more. It's snowing its ass off here."
"Here, too. Be careful. I'm about to go into a meeting with the president, the Speaker, and the other Joint Chiefs. It's going to be ugly. Call me when you have secured Mr. Tanner and are ready to head back," Everley said.
"Yes, sir. Good luck with your meeting."
"Thanks. I'll definitely need it." Everley ended the call.
Fifty-eight flights of stairs? Holy shit!" Darrell yelled. "Sorry, we couldn't help but overhear. Those things aren't real stealthy."
"Technically, it's fifty-seven flights but yeah, we'll definitely get our cardio in for the day," Damon said as he laid his phone on the console.
"Fifty-seven, fifty-eight, it's still a shit ton of stairs. I'll probably die halfway up anyway. You guys can pick me up on your way back down." The guys laughed at Darrell's remarks.
"Well, we're about to get on I-95 so look alive, fellas," Kevin said. "We're headed into the fray."
"After this," Hutch replied, "fifty-seven flights of stairs may be a walk in the park."
Chapter 10
"Okay, let's make a washing machine," Elliott proclaimed when they got back to the house. "Aaron, get those jeans off and you boys bring me any other clothes you have that need washing. We might as well get as much done as we can."
"How do we make a washing machine, Pap?" Cameron asked. "I mean, there's a perfectly good one out back. Just no power to run it."
"You'll see. Go get your dirty clothes and meet me back in the kitchen." Elliott was putting water in the tea kettle as he spoke. After putting it on the stove to heat, he reached under the sink and pulled out a plunger. He sent Ethan to the back porch to fetch a five-gallon bucket.
The boys came back with a few things, mostly socks and some underwear. Elliott looked over what they had and said, "Just drop those on the floor there. We'll work on the milky jeans first."
He put some water from the container on the counter in the bucket and added a bit of laundry soap. He took the jeans from Aaron and pushed them down into the water, swishing them around a bit. He then added some of the hot water from the kettle. Finally, he handed the plunger to Aaron.
"Stick it in the bucket and pretend like it's a clogged toilet."
Aaron looked at the plunger. It had four holes drilled into it about an inch in diameter evenly spaced around the outer edge. "What kind of plunger is this, Pap? I never saw one with holes in it like this."
"That's cuz they don't make ‘em like that. I put the holes in it. A guy at the tire store in town is one of those hardcore prepper types. He had one with him when I went to get a tire fixed once. Figured for five or six bucks I could have me a manual washing machine if I needed it. Works pretty well. I've used it a few times. Since it's just me here most of the time, I don't always have enough for a full load in the machine. Good workout for your arms, too. Give it a try."
Cameron stayed his brother's hand. "Wait. This plunger hasn't been used for … you know … its original intended purpose, has it? Because I don't know about you guys, but I do not want to be walking around in poopy-smelling pants."
Elliott looked skyward as Ethan and Aaron snickered. "Good Lord, Cameron. Of course it hasn't been used in the toilet. Go ahead, Aaron."
Aaron stuck the plunger in the bucket and worked it like he would in a toilet. The water pushed up through the holes Elliott had made in it and agitated the water. Aaron grinned and said, "You're right! It works great! How long does it take to get them clean?"
"Probably five minutes or so. Cam, go grab that laundry basket off the dryer," Elliott replied. Cameron came back with the basket and handed it to his grandfather. Elliott set it beside the bucket. "Now, you're going to wring the water out of the clothes and put them in the basket. We want to get as much use as we can out of the soapy water, so we'll wash everything before we rinse."
“Ring the water out? What does that mean?” Cameron asked. “Shake it like a bell or something?”
“No, Cameron. Not that kind of ring. Wring means to twist the material, like this.” Elliott held his hands up and twisted one towards him and the other away.
Aaron pulled the jeans out and got as much water out of them as he could using the method his grandfather had just demonstrated. He checked to make sure the milk was out.
"That's awesome, Pap. At least we can wash clothes."
"Yep, and it does a fair job. Cam, you do the next load." Elliott was adding more clothes to the bucket. Aaron handed the plunger to his brother. Cameron took it gingerly.
"It's not going to plunge itself, son," Elliott said. "Get in there and get those clothes moving."
Cameron took a few tentative pushes then got serious about the work. He got so into it he was splashing water out on the floor. Elliott shook his head.
"I guess we can mop the floor when we're done."
The laundry was rinsed in the same fashion they had washed it, then hung over the shower curtain rod in the bathroom, as well as on hange
rs on door frames in the living room and bedrooms.
"Man, you can really see how much laundry goes in a load when it's hanging everywhere," Cameron said. "Mom hates doing laundry. I bet when she sees how we have to do it now, she'll be sorry she complained before."
"I wonder how they're doing," Aaron added. "I wonder if Uncle Will is there and if they are figuring out how to get out here. It seems impossible. What do you think, Pap?"
Elliott seemed to consider the question. "Well, if there's a way, your grandpa will figure it out. I've read that older cars and trucks, like from the fifties and sixties, maybe even the seventies, had a chance to get through something like this. Maybe they can find one. That'd be the best choice for them. We'll just keep doing what we're doing until they get here. Plenty of stuff to keep us busy. In fact, we should —"
Elliott was interrupted by a knock on the front door. His head jerked toward the living room. Anyone who knew him would have come to the back door. He touched the front pocket of his jeans to make sure his pistol was there, then said quietly, "You boys stay back here until I find out who it is. Coming to the front door means I don't know them. Let me see what's going on."
"I'm coming with you, Dad," Ethan said. Elliott nodded and headed for the door.
On his way there, the caller knocked a second time, calling out as they did, "Hello? Is anyone home?"
Elliott didn't answer, instead going to the door and looking out the peephole. He turned to Ethan and shook his head to let him know he didn't know the person. Ethan gave him a curt bob of his head in return and stepped to the side of the entrance. Elliott unlocked and opened the door. A young man stood on the porch with two empty gallon jugs in his hands. His look of surprise at the opening door changed to a smile when he saw Elliott.