United States Of Apocalypse

by Mark Tufo

  “You really are a hoarder,” Darlene said.

  “I wish I wasn’t, especially the cars. This is prime real estate for us right now. I thought having them in the closest barn would force me to work on them. I never did. And you want to hear something dumb? The farthest barn has all my woodworking materials which I use all the time. I’ve replaced most of the fences over the years myself. I bet you there are three hundred slats piled up and ready to go.”

  Darlene laughed. “Then we might need to put them to good use. I was thinking we needed to cut down the trees in front of the house so we could see who is coming up the driveway.”

  “Good idea. We can start it in the next couple of days. What I think we really need to do is make sure the main gate to the property is secure. I have some padlocks we can use. A shot from a gun will take it out, but hopefully, we’ll hear it. Let’s take a ride.”

  They rode to the front of the property and Darlene looked up and down the road, but there was no traffic in sight. Even though it was a side street, Herbert had the only house on it for half a mile in either direction.

  Fields directly across the street were nice, offering a rolling sightline for miles since nothing was planted as far as Darlene could tell. But just down the road, on either side, was covered in trees and brush, and anyone could use it to monitor the property.

  The gate to the land was rusting, the metal taking a beating in the California heat. The fence itself was nothing more than decoration, white slats spaced eighteen inches apart to give the look, but not the support, of a barrier.

  “We have some work to do,” Herbert said. “A padlock isn’t going to stop anyone. We need to get the slats out and fortify this a little better.”

  “A little?” Darlene asked. She thought it might be a lost cause. The only way to keep anyone off the property would be by building a wall around it. They didn’t have the bricks, the time, or the manpower to do anything significant.

  “I’m not even sure if I can close the gate at this point, either.” Herbert squatted at the side of the drive. “It’s buried in the ground in spots. Heck, I bet this gate hasn’t been closed in twenty years. I guess we could dig it out today and at least close it, but that will only make the Sawyer brothers crash through the wooden fence.”

  “I think we should worry about this later. We need to take stock of what we have, and all the weapons and canned food you say you have hidden on the land needs to be accounted for. We should pull everything we can into the main house,” Darlene said.

  “Unfortunately, the main house isn’t big enough for the people we have in it right now. And those bedrooms are better served for stock and not kids and my damn sister,” Herbert said.

  Darlene shrugged. She could see how mad he was getting and needed him to relax. It was too hot outside, and they needed to stop wasting time. “It is what it is, right? We can’t change everything, but we can change some things. I’d put Rosemary and the boys in one room and we can fill the other guest room with supplies. Same with the living room, which is huge. You don’t even use half of it, and the office as well.”

  “The walk-in closet in my bedroom would be a good spot, too. We can fortify it in case we get trapped in the house,” Herbert said. Now he was smiling, looking across the street; Darlene could see his wheels turning. She just needed to keep the old man focused.

  “We should get an idea of the ammo and weapons we have, too. Hopefully, we’ll never have to use them,” Darlene said.

  “I know the Sawyer family. We’ll use ‘em. I just hope we have enough food to last. Adding three more mouths has screwed up how long I thought we could survive. And if we get any more friends or family or even good strangers in, we’ll really be screwed.” Herbert frowned. “Especially if they bring a box of twigs with them.”

  “Would a trip to town be a bad thing?” Darlene asked. She hadn’t really seen too much of the area, driving through it quickly when she thought she was leaving. She didn’t really know what the town consisted of.

  Herbert shook his head. “I don’t want to take a chance. With so many vehicles driving through, especially when this all started, I doubt there’s much left of town. If there is, guarantee a local has a rifle and will use it first and ask questions later. We’re used to predators coming down from the hills or through the desert. We’re all carrying a gun this far out. I just hope the friends I had are alive and still remember my face. You remember what happened to my gas station? That might be what has happened to everyone.”

  “What about close neighbors?”

  “What about them?” Herbert asked after pausing a moment.

  “Are they potential allies or enemies? I think we need to know where we stand. If they also hate the Sawyer family, maybe we can band together. Watch the road. Help one another out,” Darlene said. There was definitely going to be strength in numbers.

  “That’s a great idea. When we head back past the house, I’ll have Pheebz make some calls. She’s a lot friendlier than I am. I can’t be bothered with most. I just smile and nod pleasantly when they come in for gas. It’s much easier that way. I don’t want to know anyone else’s business if I can help it.”

  “Sound advice,” Darlene said. They headed back to the house, and Darlene sat on her three-wheeler while Herbert went inside.

  The twins were standing next to the VW, kicking at the rocks at their feet.

  “What’s up, guys?”

  They both looked at Darlene when she asked the question, but neither responded.

  Darlene glanced at the house. No one was in sight.

  “You two do speak, right? You haven’t been attacked by a giant cat, who got your tongue?”

  They both chuckled but didn’t say a word.

  “Don’t you two have a ball or something you can play catch with? I thought I saw a tennis ball near the red barn,” Darlene said.

  One of the twins looked at the house before turning to Darlene. “We’re not allowed near the barns or away from the front of the house where my mom can see us. She said if we weren’t quiet, Uncle Herb would send us away.”

  “Shut up, Aiden.”

  Darlene felt bad. There was so much more going on but she didn’t want to pry. She knew when she got Herbert alone she’d tell him, although then maybe the boys would get in trouble for opening their mouths.

  Herbert came back outside, stared awkwardly at the boys before waving at them, and led Darlene back around the house and down to the far fence, skirting the area by following the natural path surrounding the perimeter.

  When they got to the copse of trees to the north of the property, Herbert stopped and shut off the engine of his three-wheeler. He pointed at a tree stand farther into the woods, which Darlene hadn’t noticed. There was an even higher platform, too.

  “If we had enough people we could put someone up there. You can see this entire side of the property as well as the stream and anything coming up over the hill.”

  “Anyone who knows the area would know to come around this way, I would think,” Darlene said. It made sense to her. She climbed to the top and stared out over the property, only a couple of higher trees blocked the view. She could see for miles, and she made note of the houses she saw and anything else for future use. She was getting into the mindset of defending this land from anyone who tried to take it from them.

  She looked down at Herbert and gave him a thumbs up, but it didn’t really matter right now. They only had two people to watch over the entire property at night.

  During the daytime, she thought, as well. In the far distance, she could see a line of cars. They were either bumper-to-bumper or abandoned. If those people weren’t able to keep going in their vehicles, they might be on foot. Looking for somewhere to stay or a place to hole up until this all blew over. If it ever did.

  By the time Darlene climbed down, she was even sweatier than before. She wiped the dirt and sweat from her face, glad her hair was pulled back.

  “We’ll knock off the little stuff
today before dinner, but I think we need a real game plan,” Herbert said. He shook his head. He looked tired and worn out already, and they hadn’t been doing anything strenuous today.

  “Are you alright?”

  He nodded. “I’m too old for this. Sometimes I wonder why I try so hard to hold onto this place.”

  “Because of the woman inside who loves you,” Darlene said.

  “If I was smart, I would’ve put her on a bus and sent her to Florida to live with her brother and his family. Got her away from this mess.”

  Darlene laughed. “You think this is only happening in California? We already know the country is a mess everywhere. Boston is...gone? Who knows? I don’t think anywhere is safe right now. Hopefully the rest of the world is watching and will help us. I can’t imagine too many more days going by without our allies sending over troops and supplies to get us back in order. I guarantee our troops overseas are being pulled back and the National Guard activated as well. This isn’t a movie. This is real, and our government has a plan in place.”

  Herbert stared at her for a long time before finally nodding his head slowly. “I really hope so.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Day 12 - NYC - July 14th

  “You ready for your date?”

  “I thought for sure you’d forgotten about me.”

  “Put your hands through the slot.” Tynes smiled as he produced the handcuffs.

  “Really, man? You’re worried about little old me beating my way to freedom or something?”

  “Policy. Just be glad I don’t do them behind your back.”

  “Nice of you to finally check in on me. Have you seen the dregs I’ve been placed with? It’s a good thing I’m not dead.”

  “Pembroke’s symbol should have kept you safe enough.”

  “Oh, you knew about that?”

  “I know more than you think I do.”

  “Oh yeah? What do you think I think of you right about now?”

  “There are censorship laws that prevent me from saying those kinds of things out in public.”

  “Damn, you are good.”

  Tynes opened the cell and began to escort Mike out of the station.

  “Can you tell me what’s going on?”

  “With you?”

  “No, like, in general.”

  “No one has taken responsibility for the nuke in Wyoming. An extremist terrorist group based in Syria has said they detonated the two bombs here in the city, but their claims have no credibility. You can say you ‘told me so’ about the volcano.”

  “I’m surprised it held out for as long as it did.”

  “Almost too long; those people that had evacuated were starting to come back to their homes. A week is a long time to be uprooted. There was a run on most stores, huge lines. Looked like Russia back in the eighties.”

  “How old do you think I am?”

  Tynes ignored Mike’s comment. “Most places got cleaned out, some closed their doors; others were looted.”

  “I fucking told you, man.”

  Tynes nodded. “The computer models regarding the ash were mostly right about its path. They were, thankfully, a little off on the volume. But millions have already died from the initial blast and they expect more over the next few months from fallout, dust pollution, and crop failure.”

  “And putting me in jail is going to rectify this somehow?”

  “I should have known. It all comes back to you, doesn’t it?”

  “I’m a narcissist, man. Who the hell else is it going to come back to?”

  “The government has said they want things to run as smooth as possible as we ‘transition past this most difficult of times.’”

  “Wow, talk about towing the party line. Of course that’s what they’re going to say. They’re trying to get all their little ducks in a row. Activating the National Guard and getting all our troops from overseas is going to take time. Can’t collect taxes if anarchy sweeps the nation.”

  “A conspiracy theorist too? You should add that to your resume. Listen, things are a little tenser out there right now—”

  “Tense? That’s rich, I’ve seen some of the guys the cops have brought in lately. They said they’re happy to be here, that it’s safer. And I’m not talking about shoplifters, man, I’m talking hardcore criminals, so you keep turning your blind eye if it makes you feel better. If I were you, I’d go grab your wife and get the hell out of here.”

  “That a threat?” Tynes smacked Mike’s head as he pushed him into the cruiser.

  “Fuck, man. No, it’s not a threat,” he said as he rubbed his forehead. “I’m just saying—”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t just say. That kind of shit can be hazardous to your health.”

  “Yeah, apparently. Just trying to help a brother out. Shit. I wonder what the judge is going to say when he sees a big old knot on my noggin.”

  “Probably going to wonder why it took someone so long to put it there.”

  They were less than a mile from their destination when the cruiser violently spun to the side as the rear end was t-boned by a much heavier, old Checker Marathon that at one time had been a taxicab, somehow doing nearly eighty on the traffic-packed roadway. Tynes’ car spun nearly one hundred and eighty degrees, the tires screeching wildly as they protested their sideways skid. The passenger side smacked a utility pole with a ruining crash of shattering glass and twisting metal, the collision causing the pine-tar-pitched wood to snap with a sound like a shotgun blast. The side of the car had stove-piped, almost fully encasing the splintered stump in a cocoon of metal and plastic, its fallen power lines hitting the street like spilled intestines.

  A horn blared in the distance; Mike could barely make it out, as if it were being sounded by a lighthouse in a dense fog some miles away. And, like a ship attempting to return to safe harbor, Mike brushed the cobwebs from his mind, using the bleating horn as a reference point.

  “What…what the hell happened?” Mike looked down at the pile of shattered safety glass in his lap. “Why am I wearing bracelets?” He moved his hands up so he could see the handcuffs. Slowly at first, and then in a rush, it came back to him. “Tynes. Yo, Tynes, you all right?”

  The large cop was slouched over and to the side, his head resting on the huge broken pole that was now firmly entrenched where his partner would have been if cops still rode double.

  “Tynes. Come on, man.” Mike grabbed the back of the front seat and shook it. Nothing, not so much as a grimace. “Fuck man. Help!” Mike shouted to the people that were streaming by. Even for New York, the apathy they displayed was overwhelming. People too lost in their own grief and sense of impending doom did little more than give a cursory glance as they went about trying to preserve their own lives.

  Mike stuck his head out the destroyed window and gave one more shout, hoping that there was at least one decent person still out there. He was rewarded with a shower of sparks from the transformer suspended over his head. It swayed as the heavy cables that held it up struggled to do so without the added support.

  “Are you kidding me? None of you fine upstanding citizens is going to help?”

  “Fuck you, buddy. If you were so upstanding, you wouldn’t be in the back of that car,” a man dressed in a rumpled, yet expensive Armani suit said as he quickly passed by.

  “Fair point. You’re still a dick!”

  The man flipped the bird over his shoulder.

  Mike began to kick the seat. “Get the fuck up, man. I’ve got a bad feeling this day is going to get a lot hotter. And I ain’t talking weather here.” A portion of the heavy metal cage that separated the front from the back of the vehicle was rolled over and down. There was a gap almost a foot across from the pole to the bent steel. Mike reached through and shook Tynes. Still nothing. He got the distinct impression the man was still alive, but he was unable to tell just how injured he was. A glint of sunlight shone off the clasp attached to the officer’s left hip pocket. It was a round disk with a retractable metal c
ord, which Mike was sure had a key ring attached to it with, most likely, handcuff keys.

  “This sucks.” Mike was wriggling himself through the opening. His upper torso was mostly through as he did his best not to cut open his stomach on the sharp-edged protrusions the cage had produced. His side throbbed as he bent at an unnatural angle reaching for the pocket. His face was uncomfortably close to the officer’s. An irrational fear struck Mike that if Officer Tynes awoke as a zombie, he would easily be able to tear through the flesh on his mug.

  “Now that would suck...can’t imagine having your face ripped off. Good thing I got the keys,” he said triumphantly as he lunged and pulled the clasp free then fell back into the rear seat. There was a small panic as he nearly dropped them. After some fumbling, he manipulated them to the point he was able to unlock his left hand and then quickly his right. “Oh, that feels so good,” he said as he rubbed his wrists. His celebration was short lived as a five-hundred-pound transformer landed on the hood, lifting the rear of the car off the ground for a brief moment. His head banged first against the front seat and then the back before the car settled down under the heavy popping protestations of newly crushed metal.

  “Tynes, man, get your ass up. We need to get out of here!” Mike was heading for the smashed out window as electricity crackled along the hood. A reeking odor of gasoline assailed his nose as he first stuck his head out and then his body. He gripped the pole, and climbed all the way out, and put his feet on the ground, right into a growing puddle of fuel.

  “This thing is going to go up like a Roman candle.” Mike moved away from the car, but a nagging urge tore through his chest, threatening to crush his heart under its weight. “Fuck you, Officer Tynes,” he said as he ran around the car to the nearly undamaged driver’s side. The door opened with a squeal as the front quarter panel rubbed against it. A loud pop signified when he’d cleared at least that one potential hurdle. The cop’s weight had pulled the seatbelt tight, and Mike had a hard time gaining enough slack to be able to press the release button. When he finally did, the clip shot past his face, rewarding him with a gash across his cheek.