by Joel Shaw
“I don’t understand him. What was the point of driving around in a circle? What was he trying to prove?”
Duane hesitated. He had never questioned the value or purpose of racing.
“To be honest, I never gave it much thought. Racing was about competition and winning. Mostly about winning...I guess...I appreciated all the effort and engineering that went into improving the internal combustion engine. And the teamwork. You know, folks working together to achieve a common goal. That’s a rare thing these days. Back then it was normal. Back then...”
“I think he and all those other guys driving around in circles were wasting a lot of precious fuel. I sure could have used some of what they wasted yesterday.”
Duane returned to the table with a large bin and dropped it on the table.
“Things was different back then.”
“How?”
“Well...first of all, fuel didn’t cost but a few cents a gallon when racing got started...back during prohibition days...”
Amber looked away from the TV, rubbing her eyes. She had no idea what Duane was talking about and was too tired to pursue the subject further.
“I think I got the idea,” she said. “How do I turn this thing off?”
“I’ll get it. You come over here and take a look at what I pulled off the racks for you. Separate the stuff you recognize from the stuff you don’t. I’ll be right back.”
Amber walked to the table and surveyed the odd assortment of products, few of which she recognized. She was finding it hard to focus on anything in particular.
“You got anything to eat...or drink...or both?”
“Right there in front of you. Open one of those...never mind, you probably don’t know what a protein bar is either.”
Duane grabbed the candy-bar sized brown package and ripped it open.
Amber stared at the bar. It looked like dried raccoon feces.
Duane laughed. “They called ‘em bear turds. It tastes better than it looks. Go ahead, try it.”
Amber took a small bite. It was gritty, yet had a pleasant sweet, nutty flavor.
“Like it?”
Amber nodded.
“Those were made for the military grunts. They are mostly protein with a few added supplements. One of these will keep you going for four hours. It’s got caffeine in it too, so it’ll help you stay awake and alert.”
Amber noticed that Duane’s voice was changing. He wasn’t talking like a redneck anymore. She studied the items laid on the table in front of her, none were familiar to her and she didn’t care. She needed rest.
“I put a few things for you in this,” Duane said, handing her a backpack.
“This is a backpack. It has an internal frame which keeps it rigid and away from your back while you’re walking. It also has an integrated HydroPack that holds two gallons of water. You look strong, I think you can handle the weight. The top pocket on the right hand side contains a water purifier and some iodine tablets. I’ve included instructions. The top pocket on the left contains old paper road maps of the states you will likely travel through, Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, Nebraska, Missouri, Iowa, and Minnesota.”
Amber had no idea what he was talking about. She knew nothing about geography.
“The roads on the maps may not be maintained any longer, meaning they’ll be in bad shape. The further north you travel, the worse the road surfaces will become due to frost heaves and such. The roadbeds and most of the bridges still exist; take advantage of them.”
Amber listened to this man who was transforming before her eyes as he shared knowledge of another time and place. Who was this guy, she wondered.
“Let’s talk about self defense. You said you hadn’t fired a pistol, so I’m not going to give you a firearm. I am going to give you this...” He handed her a small holster with a belt attached. It contained a black and yellow device. He could sense that Amber was overwhelmed by the collection of items. He could see she was tired but he had to continue the briefing, he would’t get another chance.
“That is called a Tazer. A C2 to be exact. Don’t worry about the name. Just know that it is a self-defense weapon. It has four functions; it fires two darts with 15 foot wires attached to them. When the darts stick into the person you have aimed at, it will shock them for thirty-seconds, rendering them immobile for several minutes. You know what that means, right?”
Amber shook her head.
“Let me put it another way. It will knock them on their ass for several minutes. Got it?”
Amber nodded smiling weakly.
“OK. While the bad guy is on the ground squiggling like a red worm on hot cement, you will have time to escape, run away, get the hell out. If you miss your target -that’s the bad guy - and he or she charges you, you can use it as a stun gun. That means you have to wait until the bad guy is close and jamb the business end of this little beauty into his or her body. He withdrew the gun and pretended to stick Amber. She stumbled backwards, a reflex action.
Duane didn’t pause, “ here...like this...” he thrust it into his chest, “ jamb it into body mass and pull the trigger. That will give you time get away. By the way, it’s powered by batteries. You know what those are, right?
Amber shook her head, again. She reached for another bear turd.
“Batteries are miniature power supplies. Like this.” Duane popped the battery cartridge out of the Tazer.
“This battery is good for fifty shots. I’m giving you six cartridges. Cartridges contain the darts and wire I mentioned. Cartridges are good for one shot only. If you use all the cartridges, leave the last one in the tazer and it will continue to function as a stun gun. There’s a laser beam function that will help you hit your target and a built in flashlight. Any questions?”
“Yeah. So I’m standing there with this thing in my hand and two wires sticking in a bad guy who is on his ass. What then?”
“You pop the cartridge out of the tazer, like this, leave the wires sticking in the bad guy and get the hell away. Here, try it.”
Amber practiced pulling the tazer from its holster several times. “I want it.”
“Good. Here are a few more things you may want. These are hacked Water Ration Cards for the states you will be traveling through. The cards are state specific. That means you can only use the Oklahoma card in Oklahoma, the Iowa card in Iowa and so on. If you use them you will have to provoke specific information. There is risk involved so listen carefully. First of all, cover your face before you approach the dispenser. Security camera's are activated once you swipe the card. He paused. Amber's eyes were vacant.
"Do you understand what I just said?"
She nodded halfheartedly. Her eyelids felt like lead weights.
"Listen to me. This is important! Cover your face before you swipe the card. Got it. Immediately after you swipe the card you will be asked to enter your Federal ID number. Second: Enter one of the highlighted ID numbers written here on the margin of the maps. Make sure you have the map in hand that corresponds to the state you are in. The numbers are legitimate, good for one use. Third, you will be asked what the nature of your emergency is. Lie. Make something up. Like, "My grandmother had a stroke," or something. Fourth. You will be asked for the exact location of the emergency; give valid coordinates that are far away from your true direction of travel. How? You use this GPS. This is old school, it doesn’t have a transponder, so you can't be tracked.” Duane looked at Amber. "Do you know that every time you place your thumb on your ID card to activate one of it’s functions your location is logged in a database?"
Amber closed her eyes for several moments. She fought back the inevitable tears. “Yes. I found that out after my dad was killed.”
“What happened to your dad?”
“They shot him in the heart...”
“Who’s they?”
“State trooper.”
“Why?” Duane asked.
“He was trying to stop some of his friends from tearing down the security fence surr
ounding Cedar Creek Reservoir. It was a huge misunderstanding. The cops thought he was one of the bad guys. He wasn’t, but he’s dead, anyway.”
“I’m sorry...you said you tried to use his ID card after his death?”
“Yeah. I thought I could collect his water rations and nobody would know about it. I put his card in the FWD. After a minute or so, a warning was displayed on the monitor telling me that I had violated the law. The sheriff came by a couple of days later and took the card from me.”
“That makes my point perfectly. The key is to remain anonymous and invisible. This GPS will display your current longitude and latitude, your direction and rate of travel. I have marked Federal Water Dispenser locations in on the maps. The dispensers are marked with red flags labeled 'FWD'. Push this arrow here to move from page to page. Each page contains information that you can use to your advantage. Use the magnifying glass icon, this one right here, to zoom in or out. When you need water, look for the nearest red flag. If you don't see it on the screen, zoom out until you do see one. Center the flag on the screen using the directional arrows. Like this, see? When the flag is centered, zoom in and you will be able to see the exact location of the dispenser and the distance to it. Got it?
Amber shook her head. "That's a lot to remember. Isn't there an easier way?"
"I'm afraid not, unless you can find a local who is willing to lend you a hand. That's a huge risk, however. I strongly suggest that you don't do that. Try to focus, now. Push the page button again, and the time, elevation, coordinates, rate of travel and a compass indicating direction of travel are displayed. This button with the little flag on it is the way point button, push it if you want to mark your current location. Here, try it.”
Amber fumbled with the device, changing the display with the touch of her finger, she studied each screen with great interest while Duane continued his briefing.
“I’ll repeat the routine. Cover your face. Enter the ID number. Describe the emergency. Enter the location of the emergency. Don't skip any of the steps. If you do, a silent alarm will be activated and the Water Police will be on you thick as fleas on a farm dog. Stealing water is a Felony. Don’t get caught. Got it?
Amber nodded, fixated still on the GPS device.
“Drink as much water as you can before you fill your hydropack and this canteen whenever you have a chance.” He placed a large canteen in front of her. “Whether it’s empty or not, never, and I mean NEVER, pass up an opportunity to top off your water containers. Once you have filled your hydro and canteen, put the ration card on the ground and stun it with your tazer to destroy it. Then get moving as fast as you can.” Duane paused, out of breath. "I know it sounds complicated but after the first couple of times you will get the hang of it. He looked at Amber. She was staring vacantly at him.
“Sorry, I’m really tired. I need some sleep. Where do you suggest I do that?”
#
Amber closed the door to the small room at the rear of the Quonset hut. She was grateful to the odd looking man for his help. Beneath his goofy exterior, he had proved to be sensitive and compassionate as well. She liked him.
She twisted the knob on the lock, hearing the faint click of the well-worn dead bolt slide into place. Duane told her there was no visible means of entry on the outside of the door after the dead bolt was in place; he said something about a secure cloaking device but she was too tired to comprehend his explanation.
Whatever, she was happy to be safe, if just for a few hours. She lay her new clothes on the bed, amused by the choices that Duane had made for her.
She had complained about the amount and color of clothing Jordan gathered for her.
“This is the uniform issued to Health Services personnel. Don’t worry, the material breathes. It will wick the moisture off your body and cool you as it evaporates. You’ll love it.” he assured her. “The fabric breaths, it’s not uncomfortable and you will blend in once you get into a city. If anyone asks, you are a courier; you transport documents for Health Services. The documents are encrypted, so it’s unlikely that anyone will ask to see the documents. Don’t worry.”
Amber studied her new wardrobe. Reversible camouflage cargo pants, Reversible camouflage smock, black T-shirt, black long-sleeved shirt with two pockets below the breasts and a document pocket below those with velcro closure. A sport bra with a hidden pocket in each armpit large enough to hold the WRC cards. A pair of black boxer shorts. A pair of new black Converse high tops, a camouflage wind breaker, and the backpack containing the hydro pack and survival gear, and lastly a camouflage hat that held a cloaking veil. Jordan said the veil was the only piece of new technology that represented a true advancement in personal security. She shrugged when he said it and doubted she would use it. What for?
She inspected the room more closely, looking for the shower cylinder; It was nested between a steel wardrobe and a small sink.
“You take showers don’t you,” Duane had asked, noting how dirty the woman was.
“In my dreams only,” she laughed, “I take sponge baths. I haven’t had a shower since I was a child.”
“You’ll take a shower tonight. I have one in my...ah..guest room. You can sleep there tonight. Lock the door and get some rest. The shower is a clear cylinder, you’ll see it. Step in, close the door, dial up the water temperature you want using the large red and blue dial; I suggest ninety degrees to start with. Push the large white button in the center of the dial to start the shower. You get fifteen seconds for soaking. The water will stop. Push the soap button and you’ll get ten seconds of a soap and water mixture. Scrub yourself with the brush on the hook and push the large white button again for another fifteen seconds to rinse. Repeat the cycle one time if you wish; no more. Push the yellow button and you’ll activate air jets that will dry your body in several seconds. That’s it.”
Amber stripped off her filthy clothes, dropping them in a bin that Duane provided. She was glad to be shed of the ragged outfit. She stared at her nakedness in the mirror above the sink. A layer of grit and dirt covered every inch of her body. Undoing the band that held her hair in a pony tail, she let it fall to her shoulders hanging like a cheap wig, stringy and matted without body or sheen. The fine hair on her face had trapped road dust and grime exaggerating her moustache and side burns. Her full lips were chapped, bits of dead skin clung to them like icing on a two-day old glazed doughnut. Her dark, brown eyes were shadowed with black dirt and smeared tears making them her eye sockets deep and hollow. She shuddered when her fingers glided over the bullet scar. She noticed with some satisfaction that she looked fit. Her daily chore of pushing and pulling her mother in the wheelchair had toned the muscles in her shoulders, arms and legs over the years.
“I’ll look a hell of a lot better once I’m clean,” she said to her reflection and stepped into the shower. She dialed in the temperature and pushed the large white button and shivered with delight in the rare wet environment. “This is amazing,” she repeated over and over, unable to contain her pleasure.
Clean and dried, she dressed in the sport bra and boxers before slipping between the clean sheets drawn tight over the single bed and was asleep before her body warmed the fabric.
#
(May 6) Amber awoke ten hours later, refreshed and energetic. The decaf protein bar she ate before showering was a nutritional miracle. She hadn’t felt so good in months. She quickly dressed in her new uniform, filled the hydropack and canteen with water then exited the windowless room. She was eager to feel the sun on her face.
She walked toward the front of the warehouse before noticing that she was in the B row. She glanced at the multitudes of bins as she walked: B.B King, Boric Acid, Borosilicate, Bosch, Bose, Bossa Novas...and on and on; it was a confusing and mysterious catalogue of names. Part of her wanted to know and understand what was in every container; the other part was content knowing that her mentor was sharing some of the mysterious objects with her.
Duane was seated in a glass enclosed room
near the front of the warehouse. He was surrounded by scores of monitors but seemed oblivious to everything but focused on a small hand-held device. She could see his fingers dancing over the device. He would stop occasionally and star at the ceiling for a moment, then his fingers would begin the finger dance, as if he were communicating with someone. She stood outside the glass door for a few moments, nervous, hesitating, she reached for the lever handle and pushed it down. The moment the handle moved, Duane executed some rapid hand movements. The monitors went black and the device disappeared before she got the door open.
She could see he was irritated as spun around in his chair. “What?”
"Nothing. I just wanted you to know that I was awake and to say good morning.”
Duane studied her for a few moments. His first evaluation of her had been correct. She was a fine looking woman.
Amber blushed. “What?” She smiled.
“Sorry...sorry for staring. You look like a different woman.”
“That’s OK. I was shocked when I looked in the mirror last night. I haven’t been too concerned with how I look, lately.” Amber’s cheeks glowed as she laughed.
He rose and walked toward the her, flipping a switch near the door as he exited, the room went black. He placed his thumb on the door jamb and several hidden bolts slid into place with a resounding thunk.
“How did you sleep?” He asked walking to the table containing the gear he had pulled from the shelves the night before. Without waiting for an answer, he pushed a bottle of water toward Amber and motioned her to sit. “ You need to stay hydrated. Start drinking."
All she could say was, “Who are you? Why are you helping me? What’s with the redneck act you put on? Where did you get all this stuff?”
“I’m not going to get into all the details, but I’ll let you know enough so you can be confident that I know what I’m doing. Actually, I should have explained all of that last night. I do get worked up when I start talking about gear and retro-tech. My real name is Jordan Whittaker. I have a Masters degree in Geographic Information Science from the University of North Dakota. I have a Master's Degree in Subsurface Geoscience from Rice University. I worked fifteen years for the National Geospatial-Intelligence Agency. I worked with imagery and maps in support of national defense and homeland security. I quit in 2045 after Congress abolished the Fourth Amendment, repealed the Wiretap Act and at the same time reactivated the Total Information Awareness program and the Clipper chip. You don’t have any idea what I’m talking about do you?”