Solaris Mortem: The New Patriots

by Rusty Henrichsen

  Terry hoped to make Salem by nightfall, though it was probably over ambitious at forty-five miles away; plus, he needed to find more food along the way.

  “Pitter patter, let’s get at ‘er,” he said, hoisting his pack up and onto his back. His shoulders cried out in protest, still aching from yesterday.

  “Jesus, I need a fucking rickshaw,” Terry said, and he started walking again.

  The walk was mostly without incident until he came upon a coyote eating a fellow traveler on the road. It was an older man, probably in his sixties, and the coyote had torn his middle open, feasting on the poor bastard’s innards. Terry shot the coyote and briefly considered eating it, but it just seemed too close to cannibalism for his comfort. He wished he had the time and energy to give this poor stranger a proper burial, but time was one luxury he could not afford right now. Common human decency was in short supply these days and no wonder; it was too expensive. Time was his only currency at the moment, and he could feel it slipping away from him with every hour that passed away from his family. Lord, please let them be okay, pleeease…

  He walked all day, but didn’t make it to Salem. That had been overly ambitious for sure. Instead, he camped near Albany and would scrounge in the morning for what he could.

  * * *

  Albany was set up somewhat like a military camp. The odds of scavenging anything were slim, but the odds of getting shot for trying were pretty good. Snipers were on the roofs with deer rifles, and men, some just boys, walked the streets brandishing AR15s, AK47s, and shotguns. He walked the streets looking for a grocery store, mini-mart or anything else that looked promising. His blistered feet protested; he hoped to find Neosporin and bandages.

  Terry didn’t get far enough to find those things, but he did find an apple tree in an alley. He plucked one from the branch and took a big, juicy bite. It was a Red Delicious which he didn’t usually care for, but it was pretty damned good today. Terry held the apple in his teeth and started picking more when he was interrupted.

  “What’s your business here?” Someone barked, behind him, “Hands where I can see ‘em.”

  “Don’t shoot, I don’t want any trouble,” Terry said and raised his hands slowly to the sky, “I’m just looking for a little food is all.”

  “Sorry, stranger. We have none to spare. What have you got to trade?”

  “Trade?” Terry asked.

  “Yes, trade. What have you got? Guns? Ammo?”

  “Well…nothing.” Terry turned slowly to face the voice behind him. It was just a guy, a regular guy trying to survive like everyone else. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but it wasn’t this guy. He was in his forties, balding, short, fat and frumpy. I guess I was picturing more of a Terminator type…. This guy was wearing Dockers and polo shirt.

  Terry extended his hand, “Hi, I’m Terry, Terry Burrows.”

  The man just waved his gun, “I suggest you get back to the highway, Terry Burrows.”

  “On my way.” Terry did an about-face, thankful at least he didn’t get robbed of what he did have.

  “Leave the apples.”

  “Right…sorry.”

  Well, that was a fantastic failure. At least, I wasted a bunch of time….

  Hopefully, he would have better luck further up the road. One can of pork and beans wouldn’t get him too far.

  Terry walked on and began to wonder if he would ever see Katherine, or Jonathan, or Tabitha again. Suddenly the two-hundred and fifty miles felt like he may as well be walking to the fucking moon.

  * * *

  It was a lone outpost with very little in the way of shops or stores, but Millersburg had a Methodist church with a big American Red Cross emblem on the front that caught Terry’s eye straightaway. He slipped off the freeway.

  A little help? He dared to hope. Terry approached cautiously; he was getting a little gun shy after all, and to his relief, this was the real deal. He was greeted with a sandwich, some apple slices, and a tall glass of water. Nirvana.

  Inside this small church were about a hundred people. Most of them were locals with about half a dozen other travelers besides Terry. They had assembled for mutual comfort and strength, and he hoped his sister had found such a respite in Seattle. He had spent most of his life looking out for Little Sis, and it pained him to be away now. Of all the lousy times to be away and on the road, the apocalypse would have to rank as the worst.

  When that boy on the playground pushed Kat down back in grade school, who was there to pick her up and kick his ass? Terry was. When Kat’s husband left her and the kids, who was there to pick her up and kick his ass? Terry was. Actually, the ass-kicking was on hold until he could find the son of a bitch, but the point was: Terry took care of his sister, and that went double since their parents had passed.

  Terry sat down amongst his fellow travelers and ate ravenously. His sandwich, just an ordinary peanut butter and jelly, was heaven today.

  “Never thought a PB&J could be so good,” the man across the table said. “I’m Joe, nice to meet you.” He extended his hand.

  “Terry. Likewise.”

  “So, where you headed, Terry?”

  “North, up to Washington,” Terry said. “You?”

  “I’m on my way to Everett, myself. Gotta get back.”

  “What do you do in Everett?”

  “I’m a biologist for the Department of Fish and Wildlife. Only now, I wish I was a farmer,” Joe chuckled.

  “Yeah—you and me both. I drive truck and I’m trying to get back to Seattle. That’s home, family, you know?”

  “Well, I hope your family is okay, Terry,” Joe said and took another bite of his sandwich.

  “What about you? You got family up in Everett?”

  “Nah, my family is all back East. I don’t imagine I’ll be seeing them anytime too soon.”

  “It’d be a helluva walk,” Terry agreed.

  Joe nodded and they ate in relative silence for the next few minutes until Terry broke it. “So, what do you think of walking together? Probably a little safer in pairs.”

  “That would be great, yeah. After lunch?”

  “Works for me,” Terry said.

  They were just heading out when an elderly man wearing a name tag stopped them. ‘Chuck,’ it said. “Are you leaving so soon?”

  “Uh, yeah…we’ve got a long walk ahead of us,” Terry said.

  “You sure I can’t convince you to stay? We’re looking for warm bodies around here to help protect the town. We’ve got water and plenty of food.”

  As good as that sounded, Terry and Joe had to decline.

  “Well, at least, fill your water bottles before you go and I’ll fetch you a little food for the road.”

  “You’re too kind, Chuck. Many thanks,” Terry said, and they were on their way, richer than when they came. It was unbelievable what a difference three miles up the road made.

  * * *

  “So, what do you think all this is?” Terry asked Joe.

  “I’m going to go with solar flares—it’s really something isn’t it? The sun has a little hiccup and just like that—life as we know it is over.”

  “I’ll say…how long do you think it will last?”

  “What? The power outage? I would say for the foreseeable future—it’s going to get really ugly,” Joe said.

  “Sadly, I’ve come to the same conclusion…. How long do you suppose till people start dying?”

  “You mean large scale? I’d give it a week, maybe two. Without access to fresh water and sanitation issues—it’s just going to be bad.”

  Terry nodded. They kept walking and it kept getting hotter. They talked about Katherine, Jonathan, and Tabitha. They talked about wildlife biology and long haul trucking. They drank a shit-ton of water and by the time the sun began to dip behind the hills, they got to Salem.

  They camped just outside of town beside the river. Terry didn’t think he’d ever had a swim that felt so good.

  He and Kat used to swim all the time when
they were kids down at the local rec center and out at the cabin their parents had on the Olympic Peninsula. Those were good times, some of the best of his life. They would go there for three weeks every summer. It was just man, woods, and water, and it was perfect.

  Everything after that had been kind of a disappointment. Dad died when Terry was sixteen and Katherine was fourteen. They had to sell the cabin after Dad passed and Mom was so busy working that they never went on another vacation again; never had rec center passes again, either.

  Mom died when Terry was nineteen and Kat was seventeen. They were more or less grown and able to care for themselves, but it was one helluva blow, especially for Kat. She was devastated. She stayed with Terry for about a year until she met that shit-bag who was to become her husband.

  Dale Hodges—what a douchebag. Terry knew he was bad news from the very start. The first tip off was the way his ring finger was shrunken beneath the knuckle. ‘Kat, c’mon! He’s either married or freshly split.’ It turns out he was married, but no matter, Katherine loved him. She could not be swayed, try as he might. Terry tried to tell her it was just a matter of time before he did the same to her, but she wouldn’t hear of it. ‘Everybody makes mistakes,’ she would say, ‘that’s behind us now, it’s the past.’ Only it wasn’t. Well, it was, but it was also the future.

  * * *

  Terry woke to the aroma of fresh coffee. At first, he thought his mind was playing a cruel joke, but sure enough, his new companion had a percolator bubbling away over a small fire. “Is that—is that—coffee?”

  “It is,” Joe said.

  “Oh shit. I love you, man.”

  Joe chuckled, “It’s the little things that make all the difference. Here, I’ll pour you a cup.”

  Terry scurried out of his sleeping bag and grinned. “Thanks, Joe, I knew it was a good idea to go with you.” The coffee was delightful after four days without. Making his living as a trucker, Terry drank copious amounts of coffee and energy drinks. He’d had a dull headache since the world ended and now he felt it letting up for the first time. They sat in silence for a moment, Terry savoring the delight in his cup.

  “I can’t help but think, we need horses,” Joe said.

  “Yeah, that would be great, but how in the hell are we gonna get horses?”

  “Well,” he began, “what if we just took them?”

  “Took them? I don’t know…. I have a feeling the new world might not take too kindly to horse thieves. Probably be a pretty good way to get shot.”

  Joe nodded. “I know what you’re saying, I do, but it might be the only chance you’ve got to get back to Katherine and your little niece and nephew—before it’s too late.”

  Terry agreed, he had a point there, but he had always prided himself on his honesty. He was no thief. Once, when he was five, he stole a pack of gum from Miller’s Market and Dad had royally tanned his hide. The next day he had to go back into the store with his father and apologize to Mr. Miller and hand over the entire contents of his piggy bank. It was a lesson he never forgot and he never laid hands on that which did not belong to him again. But, this was different, wasn’t it? Could be a matter of life and death….

  “Maybe you’re right, Joe. I mean, I hate to take something that’s not mine, but maybe you’re right.”

  Terry and Joe sat by the small campfire on the edge of the river, drinking their coffee, eating a modest breakfast and Terry pondered the ramifications of stealing a horse.

  Taking a horse could potentially save his sister’s life and the kids’, but what if it also ended someone else’s? Maybe they’re relying on that horse too.…

  “So how do we go about stealing horses?” Terry questioned.

  “I don’t know exactly. Never done it before…but I was thinking we find a horse ranch or whatever, wait till dusk and saddle up. If it’s a decent size operation, they’ll never even miss the horses—we’d practically be doing them a favor—less to feed.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Terry said though he wondered if that was a line of self-justifying bullshit.

  As he wondered and worried, rain gathered on the horizon—good news. Rain meant fresh water, a cleansing shower, and cooler temps. Today’s walk would take them away from the river so any rainfall would be most welcome.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Daniel Wheatley struck a match and lit his propane camping stove. He set the tea kettle over the flame and stepped outside to feed the chickens and gather the eggs. The hens clucked noisily anticipating feed, then shut up just as fast when he threw them the scraps.

  “Hmm, good job today, girls,” he said, gathering their eggs—seven this morning.

  Daniel walked back to the old farmhouse. The stairs creaked under his weight, old wood fibers long since broken down, held together by old age and stubbornness only. White paint flaked from the body and loose panels of metal roofing flapped in the wind when it blew, but she was a good old house that had sheltered many families; full of love and fond memories.

  The Wheatleys had lived there seven years now and though fixing up the old house had kept slipping to the bottom of the to-do list, there was no place Daniel would rather be. They had a spring-fed artesian well with a backup hand pump behind the house. A large vegetable garden and a small orchard of fruit trees flanked the right side. On the left, they had horses, chickens, goats and a hog. Along the road frontage, he grew hay, and behind that, five acres were fenced for pasture and the horse barn. All in all, it was a damned fine place to weather the apocalypse…or whatever this was. All he knew for sure was nothing electrical worked anymore, and neither did his cars or the tractor. Well shit, I guess we’re Amish now, haha.

  The whistle of the tea kettle greeted him as he walked through the door. Daniel turned off the burner and dumped grounds in a French press, then poured the water in and waited. It sure took a lot longer than the Bunn.

  A few minutes later, Brandee walked downstairs in her pink robe and yawned.

  “You’re up early, babe,” she said.

  “Oh yeah, I couldn’t sleep.” It was a quarter to five.

  “Why not? Worrying again?”

  “How’d you guess?”

  “Aw, honey…my little worrier. You need to get some sleep. Leave the worrying for the Lord. He will provide. He always has.”

  “I know,” Daniel replied, “I know—it’s just a lot to swallow all at once.”

  Brandee was a devout Baptist and Daniel went along for the ride, mainly because he loved his wife. He was more of an agnostic, honestly. He didn’t see how there could be so much suffering and daily injustice in a world supposedly ruled over by a benevolent Heavenly Father. Nonetheless, he saw no harm in going, and he figured the effect on his children was mostly good. Though, in the back of his mind, he ranked God right up there with Santa Claus...and the Easter Bunny. He kept that mostly to himself, though.

  Brandee poured Daniel and herself a mug of coffee and sat down at the table. “Don’t worry, Hun. Everything is going to work out according to God’s plan. He’s set us up real nice here, and whatever happens, happens.”

  Daniel faked a smile though it must have been transparent at best.

  “You might not believe me, but you’ll see.”

  “No, no, you’re right. We’ll get through one way or another,” Daniel said, and he squeezed her hand. “I love you.”

  They drank their coffee, Brandee prepared breakfast, and Daniel attended to the rest of the animals.

  * * *

  Susan and Ted Wheatley bounded down the stairs at half past 7. So far, they liked recent developments just fine. Well, Ted did anyhow. September was almost here which meant school would be starting, but not this year. Maybe not ever again according to Ted’s friend, Nick. Nick said his dad told him that, ‘The world was never gonna be the same. All the weak people were gonna die off, and only the strongest would survive.’ Ted figured he and his family were probably a part of the latter group. He wasn’t even scared, so that had to count for somethin’
. And besides that, mommy and daddy was tougher than nails, so he knew he would be just fine. It was all actually kind of exciting; last man standing and all that. Mommy also said that they would be raptured if things got too bad. At first, that scared him. He thought raptured sounded a bit too much like tortured, but mommy said it was a good thing, a very good thing. It meant God would come down and scoop up all the righteous and take ‘em back to heaven and save ‘em from the evil doers. It also meant going to heaven without havin’ to die first. That was good, cause dyin’s scary.

  “Mommy! What’s for breakfast? I’m hungry,” Ted said, still three stairs up from the bottom.

  “Hi, sweetie. How about pancakes and eggs?”

  “Yes, please!”

  Susie brushed her long, brown hair as she walked and sat down at the table. She was quiet this morning, and Brandee noticed.

  “What’s the matter, Susie?”

  “Oh nothing—I just miss my friends I guess,” Susie said then sneezed hard enough to bring tears.”

  “Whoa, are you all right? That was a big sneeze.”

  “I don’t know…I don’t feel very good,” Susie said, looking out the window. “When do you think the power will come back on so we can go back to school?”

  “I don’t know, Susie. I wish I did, believe me. Let me fix you some breakfast.” Only Brandee knew it wouldn’t be coming back on; not anytime soon. Call it a feeling or a premonition, but she knew it wasn’t coming back on. That seemed to be the general consensus among everyone she had spoken with. She had ridden her horse to town the day before, and most folks were convinced that Armageddon was here. Technology is dead, modern medicine is gone. Some people said the government was behind it. This was all an elaborate plot to destroy the USA, default on the national debt and put a new dictatorship in place. They also said it was population control, and there was no doubt in Brandee’s mind it would have that effect. She didn’t know about all of the conspiracy talk, though. She had seen the sun exploding. That was God’s hand, not man’s.