“I guess I didn’t think of it that way. Come to think of it, my paycheck is supposed to be in next week. I wonder if the insurance agency is going to be able to pay me. Hell, I’m wondering what we are supposed to do with any new claims we get in?” Kerry said.
“All right.” Chuck said. “You’ve got me. What are we supposed to do about all of this?”
“I’m not entirely sure.” Joey admitted.
“Haven’t you been on this ‘apocalypse’ kick for years?” Will asked.
“Yeah, but to be honest with you, I never really thought it would happen. I mainly just got into it as a fun hobby thing.” Joey said.
“All right.” Kerry said. “What do you think is going to happen next?”
“Worst case?” Joey asked.
“Yeah, worst case.” Chuck said
Joey sat back in the couch and thought for a second. He leaned forward and started listing things off. “I think we can probably expect the businesses to close up for a while. Will’s example is going to play out throughout the whole economy. Once things start getting in short supply, those people that can will lead a mass exodus out of the cities. Those people that can’t get out of the cities will begin dying off. Starvation will get some once the food runs out. Minor medical ailments will get others as medicines and basic medical supplies begin to run out. Diseases will come back with a vengeance. Stuff that we’re normally used to just shrugging off will kill people by the millions. Once you throw in weakened immune systems from starvation and dead bodies just lying around, anything could happen. The flu could become a real killer again. Hell, we could even see the no-shit plague come back into full swing. Jenny would be able to tell us more about all of that.”
A tear ran down Kerry’s cheek. “Why are you crying, mom?” Joey asked.
She sniffled and wiped away the tear. “I’m just thinking about what you just said. All those people getting sick and dying. All of those children. God, I hope you’re wrong.”
“Me too.” Joey said. “But that’s just the worst case. Maybe the National Guard will be able to do something to help people. My main concern right now is that we have food and can avoid the mass exodus from the cities. We need to get away from populated areas.”
“But we’re not in a populated area.” Will said.
“True, but we’re sitting about twenty miles from a city with a population of over 200,000 people. When the shit starts to hit the fan, those folks have to go somewhere. Some of them will be headed up this way. I don’t think we should be here when they do decide to leave the city.” Joey said.
“So, where do we go?” Chuck asked.
“I can’t go anywhere.” Jenny said walking back into the room.
“Hey, what are you doing up, Jen?” Joey asked her.
“You guys have been so loud in your discussion, I can’t sleep. Besides, from what I heard, you are scarring the shit out of me.” Jen replied.
“Sorry about that, little sister.”
“Why can’t you go anywhere?” Will asked her.
“Because of my internship at the hospital. That would pretty much kill it.”
“Better the internship than you.” Joey said. “If you heard what we were saying, do you really want to be around when all of that happens?”
“First of all, why do you even think that will happen?” Jen said. “Sorry I asked. Spare me the story again. I think I heard it all a few minutes ago. Helping people is what I want to do. How can I turn my back on those folks in their darkest hour?”
“How can you stay there and help them when you know how bad it could get? Would you stick a gun in your mouth and kill yourself to help a bunch of people you don’t even know?” Joey asked.
“I hardly think that is the same thing!” Jen said, while at the same time Kerry said. “Joey, that’s not really appropriate.”
The conversation degraded into a heated argument for the next few minutes until Chuck finally cut through all of the noise. “Will! What do you think? You’ve just been sitting back while these folk have been yelling back and forth. What ya thinking, boy?”
Will looked at Chuck and then to Jen. The room settled into silence, waiting on his words. “I agree with, Joey.” Jen started to protest, but Will kept talking. “I know you want to help people and that’s one of the things that I love about you, but you’d be putting yourself in a lot of danger to help complete strangers. If we go somewhere, and I think we probably should, there will be people there that will need your help as well.”
“Like who!?” Jen asked.
“Like me. Your mom and dad. Joey. Especially, Joey. My folks, probably. Anyone we meet on the road that we can help. You’ll still be helping folks, except they won’t be strangers.”
Jen bowed her head. She was too tired for this. She tried to tell herself that she hadn’t just lost the argument, but in her heart, she knew Will was right. She couldn’t let him go off without her. Would he even do that? Probably not. She thought. He’d come to the hospital and die right alongside me. “Ok.” She whispered.
“All right!” Joey said.
“We still have to figure out a place to go.” Kerry said.
“I think I’ve got that figured out as well.” Will said. “My Aunt and Uncle own a piece of land outside of Spring City, about sixty miles north of Chattanooga. It’s about a hundred acres or so. They have a camp house that will sleep eight. It’d be cramped, but we could make it work. There are a lot of pine trees for lumber and some cleared land for a garden or whatever.”
“That sounds perfect.” Joey said. “Does it have water?”
“Yeah, it has a well and a pond.”
“Outstanding.” Joey said.
“I knew Jen did well in picking you for a future son-in-law. When do you think we should leave?” Chuck asked.
“I think we should pack up tomorrow and head out there early Friday morning, if that’s ok with you, Will?” Joey asked.
“That should be fine. I’ll go call my Uncle and make sure that it’s ok and see if they want to come.”
“What all should we take with us?” Kerry asked.
“As much as we can.” Joey said. “We have no idea how long we will be out there. It could be a couple of days or several weeks… or permanently if things truly go to hell in a hand basket.”
“That’s a lot of food. I’ll clean out the freezers and put everything in coolers…” Chuck began.
“No.” Will said. “We need to bring them. The cabin has power.”
“We won’t be able to move all of that.” Jenny said.
“Sure we will.” Joey said. “We’ll take my flatbed trailer. We’ll also load up all the vehicles and convoy out there.” He turned to Chuck. “Dad, you should probably bring the camper. We can stuff it full of stuff too. We might also need the sleeping space until we can get everything set up. Oh, and mom, make sure to bring all of your seeds for the garden. We will need to break ground and start growing our own food. Will, make sure your folks bring every bit of guns and ammo that they can get their hands on.”
They spent the next few hours discussing a detailed list of everything they should take. Joey surprised everyone when he announced that he had about six months of freeze dried food for one person. Combined with what they had in the freezers, they should have a couple months of food for everyone. Will talked to his family and discovered that they were already planning to head to the property. They were happy to have their new family members join them. Before they went to bed, Will put the phone on speaker and the entire group discussed their list of materials. Will went to sleep with more peace than he had felt in a week. They had a plan. They would be all right, he hoped.
Chapter 9
Things had taken a turn for the worse in Chicago on Monday night. The riots had turned violent when the news of the crackdown on the protest in New York reached the protestors in Chicago. People threw bottles and Molotov cocktails at the police all through the night. He and Leesha had been lucky to be on the opp
osite side of the protest when the chaos broke out. Things had seemed a little better by midmorning Tuesday. The National Guard had arrived and had contained many protestors. The fire department had been able to get in to some of the burning buildings and extinguish them. He and Leesha had been caught up in the group of protestors that had been fenced in at Occupy headquarters at Grant Park. He wasn’t sure you could call it “Occupy” anymore. Tons of people had shown up over the weekend. Antiwar protestors, people who had rushed the banks, gangs, and others had come out of the woodwork to join the chaos. There were hundreds of thousands of people packed into downtown Chicago.
With the public transport shut down for fear of terrorist attacks, the authorities had trouble dispersing the crowds. In order to subdue the chaos, the police had broken the protestors into sections and fenced them in. Clay had heard that there were at least six different holding areas. While this allowed emergency responders to access areas of downtown that had been closed off by the protestors, it compressed the agitated citizenry. They verged on the edge of critical mass. The National Guard brought in buses to remove the protestors, but it took a while to move so many people.
Clay had just returned from getting him and Leesha some water, his quest for food being unsuccessful, when he saw the spark that lit the real flame that engulfed Chicago. He and Leesha sat on the edge of the protester border on the south side of Grant Park. Clay noticed the group of fifteen to twenty men dressed in gang colors approaching the National Guard members from the south. As the men approached the police line, the guardsmen ordered them to stop. They ignored the orders. When the group came within a dozen feet of the guardsmen, a young man pulled a handgun and shot one of the National Guard members in the face.
Having hit the guardsman, the boy opened up on other targets. The other National Guard members reacted by firing into the gang. The fact that the men had shot in self-defense didn’t matter. The shots rang out into the park and released the building tension in the crowd. People broke away to run through the guards. The guards, not knowing who was shooting or why, began to fire into the crowd, trying to save themselves from the tidal wave of bodies surging toward them. The mood of the crowd changed from sheer terror to a white hot anger. The front line of the crowd tried to escape back into the park as the riffles tore into them but found themselves blocked by others behind them trying to get out. After the initial pause, the crowd surged forward and overtook the guards.
Clay and Leesha avoided the first rush but got caught in the second. Clay stepped on and over several bodies as the crowd pushed them forward. As they ran through the crowd, Leesha fell. Before Clay could get to her, a man stepped on her ankle and fell on top of her. Clay heard her cry and jerked the man off of her. She tried to rise but couldn’t. Clay picked her up and helped her get out of the street. Everywhere he looked, protestors swarmed the National Guard troops. Some had taken weapons from the guardsmen and fired at the authorities or just randomly into the crowd.
Clay and Leesha hobbled toward the buildings to the west, taking cover behind anything they could find. They stopped to rest in the cover of the Van Buren Street station. A large group of protestors ran by, the leader waving an M16 taken from one of the soldiers. They fell in behind the group. When they reached the corner of Congress Parkway and Michigan Avenue, the group ran into reinforcements of police and National Guard. The authorities opened fire. The protestors fought as best they could, throwing firebombs, bottles, rocks, and anything they could find at the cops. As the fighting raged, Clay guided Leesha to cover behind a burnt-out car. He saw no escape. Protestors and authorities fought behind and in front of them. Tear gas, Molotov cocktails, and gunfire rained through the streets.
Clay thought back to a show he had seen on the Discovery Channel, years ago, one of those “survival” shows. The host had talked about escaping a city in a crisis. The expert had suggested that the sewer system could be used to leave the city without becoming a target. Clay scanned around. He spotted a young woman lying over a manhole cover thirty yards away. He left Leesha and ran to the trunk of the car. Thankfully, the bottom of the trunk had burned with the rest of the car, allowing him to find what he needed quickly. He reached in and pulled out the tire iron from the car’s spare tire well. He ran back and grabbed Leesha, helping her cover the short distance. Leesha fell about ten yards short of the goal. Clay dragged her that last little distance. He reached down to roll the young woman off of the manhole cover. She was lying on her stomach and blood covered her back. Clay almost threw up when he rolled her over. Parts of her collar bone protruded from the bullet’s exit wound, a hole that would easily have accommodated Clay’s entire hand. The bullet must have exploded when it hit the bone. There was nothing Clay could do for her.
As fires from the buildings and fire bombs illuminated the evening, Clay removed the cover and pushed Leesha into the hole. He let her hang until she found the rungs. Clay began to maneuver himself into the hole when a man ran up and swung a piece of wood at his face. Clay tried to reach up and block the blow but failed. The stick hit him in the right cheekbone, opening an inch-long gash in his face. Clay fell back with the blow and looked up to see the man trying to get at Leesha. The man, so intent on grabbing her or following her down the manhole, never saw blow Clay had rained down on the back of his head with the tire iron. A crunch sounded as the back of the man’s head caved in. The man fell halfway into the hole. Clay reached down and pulled the man out of the way. As Clay turned the man over, he saw that his blow had struck the man hard enough to knock one of his eyes out of his skull. The dead man’s eye dangled on the nerve as blood poured out of the socket. Clay dry heaved, his body rejecting the fact that he had just killed a man. After a few dry heaves, Clay climbed into the hole. He replaced the cover and climbed down the rungs.
Once they had reached the bottom, Clay pulled out his cell phone and used the screen for light. The manhole rivaled a scene from a horror movie. He had felt the slickness of something on the rungs and vaguely recognized the smell but didn’t register the sensations until he saw the sewer in the light from the phone. The young woman had bled all of her life into the manhole. Blood streaked down the walls of the concrete tube and dripped from the rungs. Leesha began to cry. He comforted her as best he could. When she recovered, he led her away. He had no idea where he was going, but he needed to get back to his house and check on his folks. He figured that would also be the safest place for Leesha since she had no family in the city and nowhere else to go.
They walked late into the night until they became too exhausted to continue. They spent the night in the sewer. They woke tired and hungry but continued on. Neither of them knew they were. They took several twists and turns until they had no idea which way they were headed. They walked until they couldn’t hear the riots or gunshots coming from the street above.
They tried to exit once. Clay climbed up to the top of the manhole and opened it just enough to see out. Everywhere he looked, smoke and fire filled the street. He couldn’t tell where they were. He climbed back down, and they continued walking. They spent another night in the sewers. On Thursday morning, they reached a place where they couldn’t hear the riots or gunshots. Clay climbed up the rungs and looked out. Smoke still hung in the air, and he could see a few fires, but nothing too dangerous. They climbed out of the sewers. Smoke drifted across the streets and into the sky from hundreds of burned-out buildings and cars. The sounds of traffic were absent, replaced by the eerie sound of sporadic gunfire in the distance.
“Do you know where we are?” Leesha asked.
“Yeah.” He said. “Looks like we’re in the Lower West Side.”
“Shit.” Leesha swore. “You mean we stayed down there for two days and only went like six fucking blocks?”
“Looks like it, babe; but at least we’re here and alive. Take a look around.”
Leesha began to cry. Bodies decorated the streets. So many bodies. Almost every building they could see had either burned down or displa
yed fire damage. Leesha collapsed into Clay’s chest as he led her to the sidewalk. They sat for a minute as she cried herself out and regained some composure. With her head still on his chest, she turned her head to look at him and asked, “Where are we supposed to go now?”
Clay looked down at her, smoothed back her hair, and kissed her on the head. “I’ve got to get back to Bridgeview and see if my folks are ok. I want you with me.”
“I might as well. I doubt I have anywhere to go. My parents are hundreds of miles away. So is my sister. From the looks of things, I doubt the college survived. All my friends will be scattered across the city. Hell, most of them were back at the protest with us. Do you think they made it?”
“I don’t know, babe. I hope they did. We got out, didn’t we?”
“Why, Clay?” Fresh tears rose in her eyes. “Why did they shoot at us?”
“I don’t know. I think they were just scared.”
“We were scared too. That doesn’t give them the goddamn right to just shoot us in the streets.”
“No. that wasn’t right, but they were right to be scared. Just like we were right to be scared. Yeah, they had riot gear and guns, but look what happened. The crowd rushed them and took away their guns. There are a couple of dead soldiers over there.” Clay pointed to where a stray dog scavenged off of the corpse of dead soldier in military fatigues.
“Oh, God!” Leesha said as she started to cry again.
Clay let he cry for a minute before he grabbed her head in his hands. “Sweetheart.” She didn’t respond. He repeated again louder. “Sweetheart.” Nothing. “Leesha!” She opened her eyes and focused on his. “We have to get out of here. I don’t think it’s safe here.” He pulled her to her feet. “We have to keep going.”
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