United States Of Apocalypse

by Mark Tufo

  “…the State Department has confirmed that a thermonuclear warhead was detonated within Yellowstone National Park at approximately 8:52 a.m. Eastern Time. It is unclear at this time if the explosion was accidental or purposely set. What we do know is that the bomb was underground, greatly reducing the damage but not the yield. Although people, animals, and homes as far away as three miles from the epicenter have been destroyed in a firestorm of hellish radiation infused fire….”

  “A fucking nuke on American soil?” Mike didn’t overly express his patriotism, and he had a serious case of distrust of authority figures, but that someone had the balls to seriously mess with his country affected him in ways he had never encountered.

  “Shut up.” Tynes’ hand covered Mike’s face and nearly encased his head.

  “Don’t need to hear to read, dumbass,” Mike mumbled.

  “…it may be weeks until rescue operations can begin. Meanwhile, wildfires have sprung up all along the periphery of the blast zone….” The news reporter, who knew less about news and more about looking good in front of the camera, paused, placing her hand over her ear as off-camera instructions were apparently being read to her. Mike wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anyone blanch quite the way she had in those few seconds.

  He couldn’t wrap his head around what could be worse than a nuclear device being set off other than a second one.

  “Um…I’m sorry folks, we are now receiving reports from the USGS, United States Geological Service, that severe earthquakes are being reported along the Yellowstone caldera….”

  A wave of panic began to overtake the crowd as they realized the implications of the events that were unfolding. Someone at the station had extraordinary fact-finding skills, as images of the graphic repercussions of a super volcano depicted on a PBS broadcast from earlier that year were put up next to the talking head.

  “What’s going on?” someone asked.

  “I have to get home.” Many others echoed the sentiment. Some cried outright . Others bustled off to stores.

  “You have to let me go, man,” Mike said.

  “No way.”

  “Don’t you get it? Someone set off a nuke in the hopes to blow that volcano, and when that thing goes, so does half the U.S. This place is going to go to shit, and really fast. Half these people right now are heading to stores to buy everything out. How long do you think it’s going to be until the rioting and looting start?”

  “That thing isn’t going to blow. The earthquakes are just the after effects of the blast.”

  “Oh, is that all? Because people aren’t going to flip their shit over a little, itty-bitty nuke going off.”

  For the first time that morning, Officer Tynes looked confused about what he should do.

  “Listen man, you are going to have way bigger fish to fry than me. I promise, man. I’ll head back to Massachusetts, I’ll make nice with my family. You’ll never hear from me again.”

  “Come on. You’re right, it is going to get bad soon, and I’ve got to get you into lockup before that happens.”

  “You’re an asshole. Someday this decision will come back to haunt you.”

  “It already has.”

  Mike turned to glare at Tynes. Officer Tynes grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and began to escort him to his cruiser. He’d no sooner seized Mike when his radio came on.

  “All units, all units, report back to your precincts ASAP.”

  “I wonder what that’s all about.”

  “You cannot be this thick. It’s about to be anarchy, and they’re rallying the troops.”

  “I think you’ve watched too many movies. The world isn’t about to end. Shit gets too bad, they’ll have the National Guard in here for a while. That’s about it.”

  “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that. That volcano blows, the whole Midwest pretty much bites the dust, and that means the majority of food crops goes with it. All of a sudden, fat Americans no longer get their six squares a day. Know what happens then? All those crazy prepper folks with enough guns to arm a third-world country form roving gangs that take everything for themselves.”

  “Shit, Mike, you have a vivid imagination. You could maybe have had a career writing books if you weren’t such a screw-up.”

  “Everything’s black and white with you isn’t it? Wrong or right, no in between. I know some of the shit I do is a step or two over from the law. Do you also know I go to church regularly, or that I volunteer coach a youth baseball team, the Bronx Yankees? Do you have any idea how fucking hard it is for me to put on a Yankees cap? But I do it for them, not me. Yeah, I’m a fuck up, and I got a family that feels the same way. But I do good as well. Where’re the people that police that side of the law, that give an ‘attaboy’ or maybe a pat on the back or maybe a fucking pass when I run afoul?”

  “I’m not a judge, but bring that up with him. That can go a long way. My job is to enforce the law. You broke it, plain and simple. You keep your nose clean, and I don’t give a shit where you live. You’ll never need to see me.”

  “Pious fuck.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Apple pie is fucking delicious.”

  They felt, more than heard, the first concussive impact from the explosion. Tynes, fearing there would be more, had laid Mike out in an attempt to shield him from what might happen next.

  “You all right?”

  “I was until you tried to crush me.” Mike made banter, but he was genuinely scared. Yellowstone was on a scale of something he could not even fathom, bomb explosion in New York though? For that was what it felt like. He couldn’t help but wonder if someone was taking advantage of an already shitty situation or if they were furthering a cause. Both were serious reasons for alarm. Tynes had no sooner pulled Mike back up off the ground when an explosion much closer rocked both of the men off their feet. “What the hell?”

  “I need to get you back to the precinct.” He started dragging Mike behind him as people panicked around them.

  “Man, you got way bigger problems than me. Cut me loose.”

  The plea fell on deaf ears. Tynes was like a pit bull; once he had laid his teeth into something, nothing short of a baseball bat to the head would shake him loose.

  Mike started grasping for straws. “That cart man!”

  “What are you talking about?” a clearly flustered Tynes said.

  “The guy at the cart that was checking his watch—he knew this was coming, you get him, you know who set the bombs off. Isn’t that a much bigger collar than some low level numbers pusher?”

  Tynes ran, dragging Mike behind him much like a recalcitrant toy truck, then tossed him into the back of the cruiser.

  Panic had set in. People were running on the sidewalks, veering into the streets if they could not move fast enough. Tynes’ cruiser was rolling slowly as he took this all in.

  “I hope the Guard shows up soon,” Mike said as he watched through the side window of the cop car. “You really aren’t going to let me go, you fucking one-way motherfucker.” The cruiser pulled into the underground parking lot for the police station.

  “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

  “Blow me,” Mike said as Tynes roughly pulled him out of the car. “Ever hear of police brutality?”

  “I’d shut the fuck up if I were you. There aren’t any cameras down here.”

  Mike quickly did so, realizing as he looked around, the big cop wasn’t bluffing. Underground, no one could hear you scream.

  “Jonesy, toss this asshole in a cell. I’ll write up the report in a minute. I want to see if I can get a hold of my wife.”

  Mike was tossed into a main holding area with at least twenty other less than desirables from across the city. Two men over in the corner sized him up and were about to make their move when Mike flashed a small tattoo on his right bicep of a hawk snapping a spine. The two turned without hesitation and sat back down.

  Mike was processed for illegal gaming. Tynes had at least dropped the evading and r
esisting arrest charges, which could have added years to his sentence. Tynes could only hope the kid would finally learn his lesson.

  Chapter Seven

  Day 2 I-70

  Darlene felt like she’d never slept that well in her entire life. She sat up in bed and stretched, taking in the guest bedroom, with faint light sneaking through the blinds and the smell of a sweet candle burning in the bathroom.

  She tossed her luggage on the bed and rummaged through to find clothes that weren’t as dirty as the rest, a pair of her jean shorts and a light Red Sox t-shirt. She would do flip-flops and wear a big hat, if she could find it, and be a tourist while she was in town. She took a quick shower, got dressed and slapped some quick makeup on so she didn’t scare away her hosts.

  When she went out into the hallway, she heard the television on in the living room, more talk about a terrorist attack. This isn’t really happening, she thought.

  “Good morning,” Darlene said, walking into the living room.

  Herbert was the first to rise off his recliner with a smile. “Good morning to you, Darlene.”

  “Are you hungry? I’m just about to go into the kitchen and fix some scrambled eggs and bacon,” his wife, Pheebz, said, standing. She glanced at the TV. “This darn news is so distracting.”

  Darlene smiled at her. She didn’t know the other two people but guessed they were the couple who’d stopped back in from San Francisco. The husband was about Darlene’s age and quite handsome; he had a great smile, while his wife seemed tired and frowned when she looked at Darlene. She wasn’t unattractive. In fact, she was quite beautiful, but Darlene’s female intuition lit up. This lady thinks I’m a threat to her marriage, even though I just walked in the room, Darlene thought. This is going to be fun.

  “How did you sleep?” Herbert asked as he walked past Darlene into the kitchen.

  “I slept great. It’s very comfortable. You have a lovely home,” Darlene said. She ignored the cold stare she was getting from the guy’s wife and followed Herbert into the kitchen.

  “Coffee?” Herbert asked, pouring himself another cup and taking down a cup for Darlene when she nodded. “Milk and sugar in the fridge. Help yourself.”

  “What did I miss overnight?” Darlene asked.

  “Quite a bit, I’m afraid. It looks like coastal California is in a panic and moving inland. There were riots overnight in the worst parts of Los Angeles. Any excuse to act up,” Pheebz said.

  “Now, now, dear. People are scared. I’m going to take John with me back to the gas station to get the rest of the gas if possible. I wasn’t surprised when I got the call my weekly gas delivery was canceled. Everyone is hunkering down and seeing if they can ride this out,” Herbert said.

  Darlene was going to ask who John was when the husband walked in, gave a quick smile again to Darlene, and helped himself to more coffee.

  “I think we’re going to head out,” John said.

  Herbert shook his head. “No way. Haven’t you been watching the same news we’re watching? People are packing the main roads. It won’t be long before airports are closed due to the smoke in the air.”

  “We need to get back to Florida,” John said. He glanced over his shoulder. “My wife wants to be close to her parents, and I left my old man in Pensacola.”

  “Are you going to drive back?” Pheebz asked.

  “Yeah, I guess so. We’ll see how far we can get,” John said. He didn’t look too happy.

  Darlene watched his wife walk by the kitchen, peeking in and frowning when she saw John standing close to Darlene, before rushing off into the back of the house.

  “We’re going to pack and be gone in a few,” John said. He thanked Herbert and Pheebz for their hospitality.

  “I’ll pack you some supplies. Food and water,” Pheebz said.

  John shook his head. “No thank you. We’ll stop on the way east and get what we need. It’ll be a long trip back but we’ll manage. I know you’ll need it more than we will. You don’t have many options for supplies coming in, but I’ll head south and east and skirt the major cities. I can pick up things along the way.”

  “Will you at least stay for breakfast?” Pheebz asked.

  “I’ll check with my wife,” John said, then went to find her.

  Herbert and Pheebz shared a quick look, and Darlene had to smile. It was like her parents all those years, having a conversation about someone with a glance. The couple knew how whipped John was, too. There would be no stopping his wife. They’d leave but, hopefully, be back safe and sound.

  Darlene didn’t think they’d get very far once they got close to major cities, which they’d have to get near if they wanted to use even tertiary highways.

  “You never answered me about breakfast. Hungry?”

  Darlene nodded. “Yes. I can help.”

  Pheebz waved a spatula in her direction. “This is my place during the crisis. Trust me. This is the only spot where I can forget about what’s going on. When Junior was sick...” Pheebz got quiet.

  “I’ll take a heaping stack of pancakes,” Herbert said quickly.

  Pheebz turned around, stared at him with a mock mad face and waved the spatula. “You and those damn pancakes. You’re getting scrambled eggs and toast, and you’ll like it.”

  Herbert went over to his wife and kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll eat anything you cook, hon.” He patted his large gut. “As you can plainly see, I do enjoy groceries and I do enjoy my wife’s cooking.”

  Darlene wandered back into the living room since she wasn’t needed in the kitchen. She’d let the couple have a moment. She was sure Junior was a loved one who’d died, and talking about it was painful. Darlene wasn’t one to pry. Hell, she’d just lost her dad. The last thing she wanted was to sit around and cry about loved ones who were no longer with them.

  The images on the TV flashed by, scenes of major fires and police trying to control large crowds. There was a shot of Manhattan, the New York City streets looking like a war zone.

  Darlene needed to call her aunt and make sure everyone in her family was all right, even though she didn’t want to get into a lengthy conversation about what was happening in the world, or about her dad.

  She pulled out her cell phone but there was no signal.

  “Oh, that won’t work down here in this valley. I have a landline in the office for emergencies. A cordless hanging up in the kitchen, too. I carry my cell phone for work but don’t even bother taking it out of my truck when I’m home,” Herbert said. “Feel free to call whoever you want and take as long as you want.” He grinned and looked back into the kitchen. “But I wouldn’t take too long because your food will get cold, and she’s fixing a meal fit for a king in there. It’s the best way Pheebz knows how to deal with a crisis: by cooking for an army.”

  “I’ll wait to call,” Darlene said, glad for the reprieve. Her stomach was growling, anyway. She sipped on her coffee and tried to relax.

  Herbert sat down on his recliner with his own cup of coffee and stared at the television.

  “I’ll go with you to the gas station to help load up,” Darlene said.

  “Yeah, I appreciate it. I’m too old to be lifting all of that on my own. I really need to make sure I take all the Tylenol and Aleve, too. My back will be on fire tonight,” Herbert said.

  Darlene heard a door shut in the back of the house and heard suitcases being dragged down the hallway.

  “Uh, thank you very much. We really appreciate it. We’re leaving now. Good luck,” John’s wife said.

  Darlene didn’t even know if she’d caught the woman’s name. Not that it mattered now. She was going to run off and get herself killed. She called out a faint goodbye and went back to watching the nightmare on the TV.

  Herbert led them out and came back a minute later without a word, although Darlene could see the disturbed look on his face. Obviously, the couple driving away was a stupid idea but Herbert had no control over it.

  When the talking heads on CNN repeated th
e same scant information for the third time, Herbert changed the channel. “There has to be more information somewhere.”

  CNBC newscasters were following an unverified story that the attack had come from the Middle East. Three different radical groups were claiming the victory and promising even more attacks on American soil.

  The public panic added to the confusion. A foreigner was beaten in Chicago when people on the street mistook him for a terrorist. Even though he was of Pakistani ancestry, he was born in Peoria and had lived in the U.S. his entire life. Taxi drivers in New York City were pulled out of their cabs and beaten as well.

  “The world has gone mad,” Darlene said. If she didn’t know any better, she’d swear multiple attacks had crippled every major city. People were immediately reverting to selfish animals, trying to snatch everything they could before the next person got it. Sickening.

  “Breakfast is served,” Pheebz yelled from the kitchen.

  Herbert stood and let Darlene go ahead of him. “Grab what you can, Darlene. There’s only enough food for thirty people.”

  “Hush up,” Pheebz said with a grin. “I do like to cook. We’re going to need essentials, dear. Bread, butter, eggs, and milk.”

  “I’m not heading into Chico,” Herbert said, folding his hands.

  Darlene scooped some scrambled egg onto her plate and was about to shovel it into her mouth when she noticed Pheebz also folding her hands and sitting patiently.

  Dad would kill me if I started eating, Darlene thought. She put down her fork and joined the couple in prayer. She was feeling out of sorts. She hadn’t said grace since her dad had passed. It wasn’t because she had feelings either way about God; it was because she had done it for her dad.

  He’d always done it for his wife, who went to church every Sunday like clockwork. While Darlene’s dad wasn’t a religious man, he would always go with his wife on holidays and never said a disparaging thing about religion. His response when Darlene had asked him as a little girl whether or not he believed in Jesus and God was simple. I’d better, just in case, right?