Another 20 Miles

by P. A. Glaspy

  "Sorry, ma'am," Damon said to her reflection in the mirror. "We can't take the chance of stopping to close them. It could be a trap, especially if there are two doors open on cars side by side, trying to block the road. Just hold on."

  She nodded and closed her eyes. Tanner reached across to pat her arm. As soon as he touched her, there was a loud bang as something hit the window beside him. She screamed and ducked, covering the boy's body as she did. Everyone else in the Humvee jumped.

  "What the hell was that?" Hutch yelled from the rear. "And where did it come from? Light, get that hatch open and see if you can find anything."

  "On it, Cap," Darrell replied, as he squatted under the hatch door to open it. He pushed it up and let it rest on the roof. He took his cap off and stuck his head into the opening just far enough that his eyes cleared the rim. He peered across the street in the most likely direction the projectile had come from. "Looks like some guys under that foot bridge we just passed. I think it was a brick. No one following."

  "Stay up there and keep an eye out for any trouble."

  Darrell stood up and pulled his rifle out of the hole. Using the scope, he scanned the area for anything that didn't look right. He saw groups of people, and saw that they saw the Humvee. A few looked as if they might be considering approaching, but it seemed apparent that the sight of a man with a sniper rifle — or what they might have perceived a sniper rifle would look like — above the roof line kept them back.

  "The natives are restless, but so far so good," Darrell said to no one in particular. "Doesn't look like any of them want to engage."

  "Funny how that happens," Damon commented. "It's one thing to throw bricks at a passing vehicle not knowing who may be inside. It's another when someone is watching and sees you do it. It's that conditioning again. They see an authority figure, one displaying a weapon in particular, and they are more reserved. Somewhere in the back of their mind they think maybe this isn't as bad as they thought and things might get back to normal; they're afraid of being arrested, or something worse so they don't take the chance."

  "Works for me, whatever it is," Darrell called down. "As long as none of these ass— er, jerks decide to test my shooting ability. Kevin was definitely the shooter in our crew."

  "I can take shooter position tomorrow," Jason said. "I'm pretty good."

  "Pretty good?" Tanner interjected. "He's an NRA distinguished expert shooter. It's one of the reasons I requested him for my detail."

  "Sweet! You're hired, buddy!" Darrell said. "Why didn't you say something before? I'd have been more than happy to let you have this spot."

  "It was snowing hard before," Jason replied. "I wasn't going to offer to hang out up there in that mess."

  Darrell was leaning down to look at Jason. "Dude, that's cold."

  Jason grinned at him. "Exactly. That's why I'm in here and you're out there."

  When they turned down Hamilton Street, they came upon many more people outside. The driving blizzard had let up to just a light snow which they were more than willing to venture out in. Many of them, upon seeing the Humvee, shouted out at them.

  "Do you know what happened?"

  "Is anyone coming to help us?"

  "Are we at war?"

  "Now, that's a very good question," Tanner commented. "I would assume the answer is, yes, we are at war. Would that be a good assumption, Major?"

  Damon looked at the president-elect in the rear-view mirror. "In my opinion, the EMP was an act of war, sir. No doubt about it. I'm just not sure President Olstein is looking at that aspect right now. He seems to be more worried about getting control of the people here than going after the ones who attacked us."

  "It's going to be a long thirty days, isn't it?" Tanner asked.

  "Without a doubt, sir," Damon replied.

  They were approaching the strip mall area where Damon had encountered the mob the night before. Has it only been one night? He thought. Seemed more like three or four. There was a good-sized crowd there again. He wondered what they were hoping to find today that someone wouldn't have grabbed yesterday. At a glance, he saw people carrying toilet paper, napkins, and paper towels. He guessed they had figured out they were going to run out of more than just food and water soon.

  It seemed some of them were folks from the previous night. With the hatch open, they could hear them yelling out, "That's him! That's the guy that ran Tommy over!"

  Several of them started toward the Humvee at a fast pace that caused surprise to the vehicle's occupants, given the depth of the snow. It had blanketed the area so deep the tracks they had left that morning were now covered. Seeing a small mob headed their way, Darrell ejected his current round and chambered a new one for the sound effect. It worked. The group stopped and stared at the vehicle as it passed but didn't seem too interested in trying to detain it again. They shouted expletives at the Humvee and its occupants as they drove past. Mrs. Tanner put her hands over her young son's ears.

  "Not too popular right now," Jason commented.

  "Unless you're coming to save them from the hell they are soon to be living in, no authority figure will be popular," Damon said. "Might as well get used to it."

  It wasn't yet dark when they arrived back at the armory. There was no one on duty at the gate, which was closed and locked. Hutch had Damon pop the back hatch to let him out. He pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and unlocked and opened the gate. Damon drove through and he closed and locked it back. Hutch walked up to the driver's side door.

  "Tap the horn one time."

  Damon did as he had asked. The sound of the horn was loud in the quiet approaching dusk. The side door to the armory opened and Perez stood there grinning.

  "Welcome back, Cap. Was the mission a success?"

  Tanner stepped out of the back when Jason opened his door. The president-elect walked around the front of the Humvee and opened the door for his wife and son. When they had all exited the vehicle, Hutch and Jason escorted them to the door.

  "I'll take that as a yes," Perez said. "Good evening, sir, ma'am. Welcome."

  "Thank you, Sergeant," Tanner said, extending a hand toward Perez. Perez shook his hand and held the door open for them. Hutch was about to go through when he noticed Damon wasn't with them. He turned back to see him rubbing his leg, then leaning up into the cab.

  "Sorley? What are you doing? Come on, take a load off, rest that leg. We're here and should be safe for the night."

  Damon pulled his bag out and set it on the ground. "I'm just going to secure the Humvee before I come in. Make sure everything is locked up tight. I should probably move it out back again like last night."

  "Negative. Get over here and toss Perez the keys. I'm sure he's been sitting around on his ass all day. He'll stow it."

  "Well, I haven't been sitting on my ass all day, Cap, but yeah, I'll take care of it for you, Major. No problem." Perez held his hand out to receive the keys. Damon handed them to him.

  "Thanks, Sergeant. It's been a long day."

  "No doubt about that, sir. Can't wait to hear about it."

  Damon yawned. "Right after I get some coffee in me. Any of that mud Thompson made this morning still around?"

  Perez laughed. "Nah, we used that to melt ice off the steps. We've got fresh inside, just made about thirty minutes ago."

  "Even better. See you in there."

  Chapter 18

  "What's a prepper, Pap?" Cameron asked as he and Aaron came back to the kitchen. Elliott had put the washing machine away and just sat down at the table with a cup of coffee. The boys joined him. Ethan went out to smoke.

  "Well, a prepper is someone who builds up stockpiles of supplies like food, first-aid stuff, ammo, that kind of thing, in case something like this happened. They'll usually have thousands and thousands of rounds of ammo, along with quite a few different guns; food to last them and their family one to two, possibly three or more years; cases of water unless they have a setup like we have, along with catchment systems for rainwater �
��"

  Aaron interrupted. "What's a catchment system?"

  "It's just what they call collecting rainwater. Most people have gutters on their house and set big barrels up under a downspout," Elliott replied. "Then they can use that water for watering the garden, flushing toilets, even washing if you make sure to filter out the grit that comes from the shingles. We'll get something set up here as soon as it warms up a bit. We'll need some way to water the animals and the garden if we go too long without rain. If we use it to flush the toilets, it's that much less we have to pump."

  "I'm all for that!" Cameron exclaimed. "This whole EMP thing just got started and my arms are already feeling like jelly!"

  Aaron rolled his eyes. "Quit yer whining. That pump isn't hard to use."

  "No, it isn't, not compared to what we used at my grandparent's house," Elliott added. "Those hand pumps back then were cast iron. It took a lot to get them started, but they got easier once you did. This one here is light compared to those."

  "Well, I'm glad you got the one you have then, Pap," Cameron said. "Especially now that this happened."

  "Me, too, Cam."

  All three of them turned to the door as Ethan came back in. Aaron got a whiff of pot when Ethan walked by him to sit down at the table. He snorted a laugh.

  "Wow, I didn't know you were a stoner, too, Dad," he said sarcasm dripping from his voice, with emphasis on the Dad part. "I don't guess we should be surprised though. Most of the ones I know aren't very responsible either."

  Ethan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Looking at his oldest son he replied, "It's medical, Aaron. I have a script for it. It helps with the pain from the cancer." He didn't say anything else.

  Aaron sat staring at him for a moment, then dropped his gaze to the table. "Sorry."

  Ethan nodded. "It's okay. It's kind of ironic to be honest. I used to smoke pot all the time for the high, the escape. I quit a few years ago. Look at me now. I guess I was destined to be a pot head. Only now I can get the good stuff." He chuckled, though no one joined him in the laugh.

  "Is it bad? The pain, I mean?" Cameron asked in a hushed tone.

  "It can be. I've got pain pills, too. I'm hoping they last long enough to get me to the end. Fortunately, I just got the prescription refilled Friday. Make that thankfully."

  The kitchen grew quiet as each was lost in his own thoughts. Elliott’s and Cameron's faces held pain at the knowledge of the loss that would surely come soon. Aaron's was a mixture of pain, anger, and something else. Regret? Betrayal? Sorrow? They couldn't tell. After a moment, Ethan spoke.

  "What is it, Aaron? Let's just get it all out in the open. I don't have much time left, but we seem to have free time right now, so let's do this. Give it to me, all of it."

  Aaron shook his head. "No, it's better if we don't talk about it. I've hated you for so long, and I'm not sure how to stop doing that. I'm trying to accept you being here … for my brother, for Pap. But I can't forget the pain it caused when you left. You hurt our mom, bad. You hurt me. You hurt Cameron, too, but he's more forgiving than I am. And now here you are. And as much as I want to keep on hating you, I feel sorry for you because you're sick and dying. So no, we aren't going to talk it out. All that will do is bring it all back, all that pain and anger. We just need to try to work on today, I guess. Is that all right with you … Dad?"

  At the honest use of the paternal name tag, Ethan's face broke into a grin. "Yeah, that'll work, Aaron."

  Elliott stood up and walked over to Aaron. "Stand up, Aaron."

  Aaron did as his grandfather asked. When he was standing, Elliott wrapped him a tight hug. "Thank you, son. I'm glad you're willing to let it go. Maybe we can forgive before it's too late, but we are going to need to work together right now. How about you and Cam go split some wood for tonight?"

  "Sure, Pap. C'mon, Cam. You need to work on those arms, so you can pump more water." He grinned at his brother over his grandfather's head.

  Cameron sighed dramatically. "My arms are like spaghetti already. How about you chop, I'll stack this time?"

  "Fine, whiny butt. Let's go." They slipped on their boots, grabbed their coats, and went out the back door. Ethan was smiling at their antics. Elliott turned to his son.

  "They're good boys, turning into fine young men."

  "No thanks to me."

  "No, you didn't have a hand in what they've become … or maybe you did. Maybe you leaving made Aaron take on the responsibility of the man of the house since you weren't there. Would he be as strong as he is now if you'd been around? Who knows? He left the door open instead of slamming it in your face this time. I'd take advantage of that if I were you." Elliott picked his coffee cup up off the table and took it to the sink.

  "I hear ya, Dad. I'm going to try."

  ~~~~~

  Taylor got home with the jugs of water and rushed inside calling out for his wife.

  "Wendy! Where are you?" His three kids, Heather, Grayson, and Derek came running at the sound of his voice. "Where's your mother?"

  Before they could answer, Wendy came in from the backyard stomping her feet on the rug. "Outside boiling the last of the water for oatmeal. I hope you were able to get some more from that guy. What was his name?"

  "Elliott. Yes, I got some, but what I saw was even better!"

  She cocked her head to the side. "Really? Tell me. I could use some good news."

  "I think I found the place we should go when our food runs out, maybe before, with us having no water."

  "Where?"

  With a grin, he said, "Elliott's. He has the hand pump on his well, a wood-burning stove in the living room, a gas stove in the kitchen — I saw homemade biscuits on the table! — chickens, plenty of wood … the house was toasty warm. It's set up perfect for a situation like this!"

  "One problem: there's already someone living there. Is he by himself?"

  "No, his son and two grandsons are there, too," Taylor said. "But I'm sure we can get him to let us stay there. It's a big ranch-style house. At least three bedrooms."

  Wendy considered what he'd said, then replied, "By my count, they're using all of them. It sounds like they're pretty full already."

  Taylor's excitement waned somewhat. "I think we should at least talk to him about it. Everybody is going to have to help each other now to make it. I saw an old garden, so I'm sure he grows vegetables in the summer. There was a deer head on the wall, which means he hunts. We need someone like that if we're going to get through this."

  Wendy looked doubtful. "I don't know about this, honey. We don't know him or his family. They don't know us. We can't just decide we're going to move in with someone, number one, without talking it over for more than five seconds, and, number two, without talking to them. I just don't want you to get your hopes up … not just yet."

  Taylor threw his hands in the air in exasperation. "Then what's your plan, Wendy? What are we going to do when the food we have is gone? We need to cook the stuff in the freezer now or it's going to go bad. We have enough to last us maybe a couple of weeks. We have no water, for drinking, washing, anything. Thankfully, we're on a septic tank, but we still need water to flush. We're going to use up the rest of the wood we have today or tomorrow. That means no heat at all, and we haven't even hit the coldest months yet. I won't sit here and watch our children freeze to death or die of dehydration or starvation. We have to do something. We can't stay here."

  Wendy had tears forming in her eyes. "I'm scared, Tay. Are you sure this isn't just a bad power outage, you know, from ice on the lines?"

  Taylor looked skyward then closed his eyes. When he opened them, he said, voice full of calm, "The cars don't work. Nothing electronic works. Those things are not controlled by power lines, babe. This is a big bang thing or something. I don't know what it is; I just know it isn't getting fixed for a while. We're going to have to figure something out for the kids."

  She wiped her eyes, took a deep breath, and replied, "Okay. We'll talk to this Elliott. The wors
t that can happen is he says no, right?"

  Taylor picked the jugs up and carried them to the kitchen. "He can't say no."

  "But what if he does?"

  "Then we make him change his mind."

  "How?"

  He set the jugs down on the counter by the sink and looked her in the eye. "Whatever it takes."

  Chapter 19

  It took them a couple of hours to load up the guns and ammo. Joel didn't want to start the Scout again until they were ready to leave, so they carried everything out to it. Amanda loaded the bags and pointed out what ammo to take. By the time they were finished, both Will and Joel were sweating even though it was still just above freezing. Teddy was back in the living room when they finished with the last load.

  "There's still ammo cans in there," he commented.

  Joel wiped the sweat from his brow with a paper towel Amanda had handed him. "There's no more room, Teddy. The Scout is squatting pretty good already. I don't think we want to stack anymore weight in there."

  "Well, the first assholes that break in here after I'm dead will get a nice little bonus then." Teddy's laugh turned into a coughing fit. They watched, anxious, until it subsided. "Okay, one of you go over and get Ron next door. We'll set him up while you're here."

  "I'll go," Joel said. He headed toward the front door.

  "Are you sure, Dad?" Will asked. "I can go."

  No, no, you cool off. I've got this." Joel hurried out the door. Amanda and Will looked at each other. Will shrugged his shoulders and stepped back outside for a minute.

  Joel walked across the yard and knocked on the door of the house to the left of Teddy's. The same man who had stepped out earlier came to the door with a questioning look on his face. Joel went into an immediate explanation.