The Yellowstone Event: Book 6: The Aftermath

by Darrell Maloney

  FEMA officials who worked in the office which passed out the keys would save the most luxurious of the recreational vehicles. They’d park them in the back of the lot where most people would never see them and either cover them with huge tarps or bury them behind other RVs.

  They’d either save them for themselves or give them to family members or friends, or accept bribes from moneyed people who thought themselves too good to drive the same vehicles as commoners.

  In a few cases they outright sold them to people who had no intention of evacuating to Alaska, but who loved to take summer road trips around the country.

  It’s relatively easy, really, to falsify paperwork to make it appear such vehicles are given to people who need and deserve them.

  In a time of crisis, when all hell is breaking loose and auditors have no time to check such things, it’s even easier.

  The dealers who sold the vehicles to FEMA got in on the graft as well.

  Word spread like wildfire that FEMA was making the rounds and buying everything up.

  Something that big cannot be kept under wraps.

  Many dealers played it straight and sold everything they had at the manufacturer’s retail price.

  A few, in an admirable display of patriotism, sold the vehicles at cost or just above.

  Many others, though, saw a chance to make it rich.

  A few falsified invoices to make it appear they paid the manufacturers more than they really did.

  Other dealers went through their customer contacts.

  “The RV you bought from us five years ago was a good one and you got it at a fair price,” they said. “But it’s time to replace it. With FEMA buying everything up the manufacturers will be running way behind. RVs won’t be available for regular consumers like you for at least ten years.

  “If you don’t replace your old one now you may not have a chance for a very long time.”

  If one knows his business, there are a thousand different ways to steal.

  Some of the regular customers, always happy before with the service they got, jumped at the chance to buy a new RV while they were still available.

  Since it had been several years since their last purchase, they had no idea what current prices would be.

  And there was no time to do any research. If they didn’t act fast their rival down the street might grab the last one. And the old notion of “keeping up with the Joneses” was still alive and well in American suburbia.

  Every RV on practically every lot in America got a price increase in anticipation of FEMA buyers coming around.

  Some went up five thousand dollars.

  For dealers who were more reckless or bold they went up ten thousand.

  John Q. Customer, getting cold-called from his old dealer, would never be told the upgrade he was purchasing was way cheaper just the week before.

  The dealer wasn’t about to tell him he just made an extra five grand off him.

  That would be stupid.

  That dealer would pocket even more on the deal, after he falsified the trade-in documents and claimed he paid John Q. Customer twice as much for the older model than he really did.

  He may have only allowed twenty thousand credit for the trade-in, then made phony paperwork to show he allowed forty.

  The FEMA official would agree to take the trade-in off his hands for the forty thousand, plus ten percent for his trouble.

  And the dealer would laugh all the way to the bank after pocketing an easy twenty four thousand dollars.

  Yes indeed, if one knows his business, there are a thousand different ways to steal.

  And that’s never more true than when stealing from the federal government.

  Chapter 34

  The caravan of RVs finally made it over the ALCAN Highway and arrived on the outskirts of Anchorage.

  The FEMA processing center had originally been set up smack in the middle of the city.

  Anchorage is by far the largest city in Alaska. But by the standards of other cities, with a population of only 290,000 people, it’s not that big.

  By lower forty eight standards it’s barely a mid-sized town.

  The first week FEMA’s offfice was open in Anchorage refugees began to arrive, and the city decided that something had to change.

  The mayor burst into the office in a near-panic.

  “You’ve got to do something. This can’t go on!”

  The office manager asked him what in the world he was babbling about.

  “Come outside. See for yourself.”

  Traffic on Main Street and on every other street in downtown Anchorage was at a standstill.

  The traffic system just wasn’t meant to withstand the assault of a hundred to a hundred and fifty RVs pulling into town each and every day.

  Especially when the drivers weren’t local and were getting lost trying to find the FEMA office. In their efforts to do so they were pulling all kinds of crazy stunts.

  Things like whipping u-turns in heavy traffic, making frantic last second lane changes, making illegal turns and driving the wrong way down one-way streets.

  It took a few days to fix things, but FEMA leased a shuttered convenience store south of town and erected huge billboards starting several miles farther south.

  FEMA PROCESSING STATION – 10 MILES

  ALL REFUGEE VEHICLES STOP

  Similar signs were placed each mile.

  Evacuees would have to be blind not to see at least a few of them.

  There was much less chaos with the new location. The mayor of Anchorage went back to worrying about other very important things, like moose droppings in the town square and caribou eating the courthouse grass and an elusive teenage tagger spray painting graffiti on the east side of town.

  FEMA once again became a team player and an ally, instead of an invading force threatening to take over the place.

  Melvin parked his RV in one of the drive-through slots and Tony parked right beside him.

  The other RVs in their convoy pulled up as well.

  They’d all gotten to know one another and were quickly becoming friends.

  Convoying on the ALCAN does that to people.

  The trip is treacherous, as highway travel goes, with hazards seen at few other places around the world.

  There are long gaps between towns and rest areas, and it’s a minimum four day trip.

  This was where they’d part ways, for they’d been given choices for permanent relocation when they did their initial paperwork in the lower forty eight.

  Some wanted to stay in the Anchorage area.

  Others wanted to stay in a large new development near Naknek.

  The heartiest and bravest near Barrow.

  Still others wanted the city life, but something not as quite as busy as Anchorage.

  They’d settle near Juneau or Fairbanks.

  As for our four weary travelers, they opted for a settlement about forty miles east of Anchorage. Side by side plots fronting Etlunka Lake.

  Melvyn was unsure whether he wanted to retire from working. He’d certainly earned the right, after working his entire adult life. But he was pretty sure he’d get bored staying at home all day without anything to do.

  “Oh, don’t you worry,” Gwen told him. “We’re going to set up a place like the farm I grew up on. We’ll bring in livestock and chickens and maybe even some pigs and goats. We’ll grow our own crops and fish and hunt in the spring and summer to set aside our winter meat supply.

  “All that’ll keep both of us very busy. We’ll need a barn and pens, chicken coops and a walk-in freezer. A smoker and storage sheds. And of course we’ll have to work the soil and gather firewood…”

  Melvyn pondered her words and changed his tune.

  “I think I might like to work in town for just a few more years.”

  Chapter 35

  As for Hannah and Tony, they’d already settled.

  She would commute to nearby Joint Base Richardson-Elmendorf, where she would work as an ad
ministrative assistant for an Army colonel.

  She’d already done an on-line application and was accepted for the job.

  The Department of Defense’s civil service program hired people based on a point system.

  Applicants got points based on their prior work experience, whether they were prior military, points for time in service, etcetera.

  Luckily for Hannah, Yellowstone refugees also got ten bonus points for relocating so far away.

  That was enough to put her over the top.

  As for Tony, he was certainly not afraid of hard work, and he’d need to build the same outbuildings as Melvyn.

  “I’ll let you go to work for the first couple of years and Melvyn and I can work together to get everything built on both plots. Then I’ll spend my days hunting and fishing in warm weather to build up our food stores.”

  “Uh, huh. And what are you going to do in the winter months, when hunting and fishing is pretty much finished until springtime?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll probably sleep until noon every day, take an afternoon nap, and then get up just before you come home and cook dinner.”

  “Hmmm… well, at least you plan to cook dinner…”

  Tony was quick to correct her. “No, honey,” he said. “I meant I’d get up just before you came home, and you cook dinner.”

  She gave him the look.

  He withered like a milkweed in hundred degree heat.

  He was teasing, of course.

  Otherwise he wouldn’t live very long.

  The four of them joined the other drivers in the convoy and walked into the processing center, then pulled numbers from an automated ticket dispenser.

  Gwen’s number was 4864.

  Hannah’s was 4865.

  The monitor mounted just below the ceiling in the corner of the room said:

  NOW SERVING NUMBER 4007

  The women looked at one another, puzzled looks on both their faces.

  From across the small room came a rather odd voice: hoarse, female, a bit timid. As though she was apologizing in advance for what she was saying.

  “It’s gonna be awhile,” the voice said.

  Gwen and Hannah turned to see the woman, sitting in a row of seven plastic chairs lined up neatly against the far wall.

  All of the chairs were occupied by others who looked up at the newcomers.

  A man two seats down from the woman locked eyes with Gwen and nodded, apparently in agreement of the woman and her statement.

  They walked over to the woman.

  “What do you mean?” Gwen asked.

  “They only have two people to process the paperwork, and dozens of people who come in every day.

  “We’ve been here for four weeks.”

  Hannah repeated her words, rather numbly.

  “Four weeks?”

  “Yes. You’ll likely wait at least that long too.”

  The woman nodded toward a very large sign, posted on the wall they’d walked past when they walked in.

  It was written by hand, in block letters, on four white poster boards tacked side-by-side on the wall.

  PLEASE READ THIS IN ITS ENTIRETY BEFORE CALLING UPON STAFF. IT WILL ANSWER ALL YOUR QUESTIONS.

  This is the Anchorage Branch of the Greater Alaskan Land Act Processing System.

  You MUST process through this office to receive your benefits. There IS NO other office you can process through.

  If you do not process through this office and proceed to your land site, you will NOT be provided materials or assistance for your cabin.

  We UNDERSTAND you’ve come a long way.

  We UNDERSTAND we are running behind.

  We HAVE requested additional personnel to help us process people faster. We have been waiting for help for several weeks.

  We will NOT be able to process our clients faster if you come in several times a week to ask how much longer it’ll be. You’ll distract us from processing other clients and slow the process down even further.

  We UNDERSTAND your frustration. Insisting on complaining to the manager will NOT do any good. If you wish to complain to the Department of Homeland Security you may call 202-282-8000. Good luck getting through. They don’t answer their phone for us either.

  We recommend you check back occasionally to track your number, and when it is getting close to the top, start coming in and waiting in our office until your turn is up. Please do NOT camp out in our office in an effort to make a statement. Doing so will cause your number to be cancelled and your application voided.

  Please DO NOT leave your RV in our parking lot. All it will do is create a parking nightmare for yourself and others and WILL DELAY your processing. There are plenty of parking areas all over Anchorage which will let you park for free.

  Dump stations are available at several public campgrounds listed on a handout available on a table next to the door.

  Also available are handouts listing food banks, local churches and soup kitchens.

  Please, DO NOT make yourself miserable as you wait. Instead, make the most of this beautiful country. Go sightseeing. Learn your way around Anchorage. Play tourist. Once you get processed and get to your homestead there will be plenty of work to do. Now’s your time to relax. The calm before your storm. PLEASE take advantage of it.

  Chapter 36

  Gwen spoke to the woman who’d initiated the conversation.

  “I suppose there’s no way to speed up the process?”

  “I’m afraid not. They’ve only got two people working here and they’re being run pretty ragged.”

  She nodded toward two closed doors on the room’s west wall.

  “They lock their doors now when they have a client in with them, because they were being interrupted so frequently by new arrivals. They said the only way they could get their clients through the process was to lock their doors while they worked. The only way to speak to them is to catch them when they open their doors to let one client out and to call in the next one.

  “But trust me, you don’t want to do that. All that’ll do it raise the ire of the other people waiting. Because you’ll be slowing down the process even more.”

  “So that’s it? Now that I have my number I just hang out around town and check back occasionally until my number starts getting close to the top?”

  “I’m afraid so. If it would help, I can offer a couple of tips that they didn’t include on the sign.”

  “Oh, please do. Anything would help.”

  “The Walmart on Dunwoody Street has sectioned off half its parking lot for RV parking. They’re also providing additional security to keep looters at bay.”

  “That’s very accommodating.”

  “Yes, they’re amazing. I think you’ll find they’re typical of most of the locals. They know we’re in a bad situation and they’re welcoming us with open arms.

  “The same is true of the military base. Joint Base Richardson-Elmendorf. Fort Richardson was an Army Post until a few years ago. It consolidated with Elmendorf Air Force Base to make the joint base.

  “They’ve turned one hundred acres of land into an RV park, complete with electric and sewage hookups and a dump station.”

  “But we have no military ties.”

  “That doesn’t matter. They’ll give you a visitor’s pass. The only requirement is that you check your weapons at their armory, but you can check them back out to go hunting if you wish. That’s where we’ve been staying. The troops are quite friendly. The base residents are always bringing by fresh-baked cookies and inviting us to their family barbeques and such. They’re a godsend.”

  “That’s wonderful. Anything else?”

  “Most of us didn’t bring any vehicles in tow. The mayor of Anchorage is encouraging everyone to go sightseeing. They’re very proud of their city here. But it’s a small place that wasn’t meant for hundreds of RVs. He’s asking that if you towed a car in that you use that to go downtown and leave your RV parked elsewhere.

  “If all you have is you
r RV, he asks that you keep it off of Main Street and Broadway Avenue. He says if you park it a few blocks away from downtown and walk in it’ll help with the traffic problem.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  “Four weeks tomorrow. But I hope we can get processed today so we can head out in the morning. If our number doesn’t come up today I’ll be sitting here again tomorrow.”

  “So… you suggest we just come by every few days to see whether our number is getting close?”

  “Exactly. Then when it gets close start waiting here for them to call you.

  “One word of warning, though. Don’t miss your call. If you’re not sitting here waiting when your number is up they’ll bypass you. Then your only recourse is to take another number and start all over again.”

  Her words caused Gwen to wince.

  “Thank you so much for your help, dear. I hope you get out of here today. And I’m sorry for not introducing myself, I’ve just been so overwhelmed by it all.”

  She expended her hand and said, “My name is Gwen. Gwen Lupson, from Phoenix.”

  The woman took the offered hand and replied, “I’m Charlotte Hanson from Chicago.”

  “Might I ask where you’re relocating to, Charlotte?”

  Charlotte laughed.

  “I’m sure you’ve never heard of it. We’ve requested our acreage at the new development at Etlunka Lake. It’s mostly east and a bit south of here.”

  “Oh, I have indeed heard of it. That’s where we’re going as well.”

  “Really? Well, I look forward to seeing you again, then.”

  And with that, Gwen had made a new friend.

  One of the office doors opened.

  The first two persons out were a married couple, perhaps in their early twenties. The man carried a baby carrier with an infant clad in pink and white, sleeping peacefully and seemingly unaware of the goings-on around her.

  Her parents were smiling and seemed incredibly happy.

  As though a terrible weight (or maybe wait) had been lifted from their shoulders.

  The mother clutched a handful of signed papers. Essentially their ticket to a new life in a brand new place.