by Payne, T. L.
“Do you believe we will see the large numbers of deaths that the EMP Commission reported?” Maria asked, slowing to allow Beth to come alongside her.
“At the time, I thought they were fear mongering. But now…” Beth took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before continuing. “Now, with all I’ve seen so far, I’m starting to believe it may be accurate.”
“Me too.”
“I’ve tried not to think about the future. I mean, much past getting home to my kids. Even though Greg and I spent a great deal of time discussing and planning for this, I still cannot fathom how we can survive long term without modern technology.”
“I’m convinced that only the strong will survive—those with the physical and mental toughness to scratch, claw, and fight to make it through each day.”
“I’m afraid you are right. I hate to think about how the strong will prey on the weak until they are extinguished from the earth. It’ll become a vicious cycle until someone is able to restore some semblance of law and order. I pray that it won’t require the heavy hand of a dictator to accomplish it.”
“That is usually the case, though. Look at places like Iraq, Iran, and Syria. Then you have China, Cuba, and Venezuela, where the dictators rule with military force. I don’t know what is to become of the United States now, but I fear that we, too, will see the rise of a dictator before we rebuild our nation so peace and freedom can be restored,” Maria said, her voice trailing off as they both became lost in their own thoughts about the future of the nation.
They walked in silence for another hour before Maria spoke again.
“Beth—look,” Maria grabbed hold of Beth’s arm and pointed to her right.
Down a driveway, off the highway, sat a rundown auto body shop and three metal buildings.
“I don’t understand. What am I supposed to be looking at? All I see is a body shop.”
“I bet we could find some kind of wheels there in that body shop. Body shops restore old cars,” Maria said, pulling Beth toward the driveway.
“We only have one gun and very little ammo. We can’t afford to get into a gunfight,” Beth said, pulling back and trying to slow Maria down.
She wasn’t too enthusiastic about stealing someone’s vehicle, let alone running into the business owner in the middle of the night.
“Someone could be in there.”
“I doubt it,” Maria said.
“But what if they are?”
“We are just going to have a look around. If we find anything, we can decide then if it is worth the risk. Unless you want to walk another three hundred and fifty miles.”
Beth thought about it a moment. They were at greater risk on foot, and that many miles was a lot to cover on foot.
“All right. But if we discover anyone in there, we leave. I don’t want to have to kill someone for a car. Okay?”
“Okay. Let’s just see what we find,” Maria said, dropping the pack. She knelt to remove the Henry from the pack and assemble it. Maria slapped an eight-round magazine into the magazine well, chambered a round, and gave the rifle and the second magazine to Beth.
“Put this magazine in your pocket. I’m a Marine—I’m comfortable with the Ka-Bar,” Maria said as they stood and headed down the driveway.
Maria led the way with the Ka-Bar held in a fighting grip. Beth carried the Henry at port arms with her finger near the trigger. She prayed that Jack remained quiet. She considered leaving him at the end of the driveway, but he might bark like he’d done at the bridge when she had left him to get water.
The driveway turned into the garage. An adjacent gravel drive continued on down a hill toward the two metal buildings and other structures. It was difficult to make out the many distant shapes in the dark. Beth feared that one of them might be the shop owner’s house.
Maria stopped at the corner of the garage in a crouch.
“Stay here. I am going around back to see if there is a side door.”
Maria disappeared around the building while Beth gripped the rifle tight. Her nerves were on edge. The sound of her heart beating in her chest nearly drowned out the noise of the crickets and frogs.
Beth’s heart jumped when Jack gave a low growl.
“Shush, Jack. Be quiet now. You’ll get us all killed,” Beth nervously told the dog, like he understood English.
Maria reappeared at the back corner of the garage and motioned for Beth to follow her. Maria had found the side door. She pushed it open, and she and Beth entered the dark oily smelling building. Beth shined the flashlight around the windowless space. Three vehicles were parked in the garage. It was immediately evident that two of them were useless with the engines removed and several body panels laying nearby.
In the last bay, however, was an SUV that might hold promise. Maria rushed around the mix of auto parts and equipment to the driver’s door of the white Ford Bronco.
“You are not going to believe this,” Maria said, turning to Beth.
In her hands, she held up a set of keys on a fuzzy rabbit’s foot key chain.
Beth thought the rabbit’s foot was a good sign—maybe it would bring them luck.
“You think it will start?” Beth asked, not sure if it was old enough to have survived the EMP.
Beth knew nothing about cars. She only knew that Greg had said older cars would likely work after an electromagnetic pulse.
“Only one way to find out. Cover me—I’m going to just turn the key and see if the lights turn on,” Maria said.
Beth went to stand by the door. As Maria tried the key, Beth watched the gravel driveway for any sign of the shop owner. No flashlights flicked on. She heard no human sounds.
Until music blared from the Bronco’s radio.
Beth tensed as Maria struggled to turn it off. Beth stepped outside the door and looked for any sign that anyone heard the music and was coming to investigate. After not seeing or hearing anything, Beth relaxed her shoulders and released the breath she held.
“I think we should try to roll up the garage door and push it outside. Maybe we can push it all the way to the road before starting it. That would be a lot safer,” Maria said.
“We should wait a minute and see if anyone comes out to investigate.”
“You’re probably right. I am just anxious to get the hell out of here.”
“Me too,” Beth said.
They waited a few more minutes, and after not seeing or hearing anything, Maria slowly rolled up the garage door. To Beth’s surprise, the rollers made very little noise. Once the door was open, Maria put the Bronco into neutral and she and Beth pushed it out and onto the driveway.
Beth quickly realized that the incline of the driveway would make it too difficult to push the vehicle out to the highway.
“I think we are going to have to risk it and start it here.”
“I’m afraid so. You and Jack get in. I’ll open the passenger door and stand watch while you start it. I’ll jump in and off we’ll go. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Beth handed Maria the Henry, pushed the driver’s seat forward, and placed Jack’s carrier on the floor behind the seat, while Maria placed her pack on the back passenger seat. When Beth was behind the wheel, she waited for the okay from Maria, who was standing watch, before she turned the key. She prayed the engine started—and that it did so on the first try.
It didn’t start on the first try or the second. But on the third try, the engine caught, and Maria jumped in. Beth sped down the driveway and peeled out onto Highway 166, heading east toward Baxter Springs. Toward home.
Chapter 14
FEMA Joint Field Office
Springfield, Illinois
Event + 14 days
As Aims’ vehicle approached the gate, a National Guard soldier held up a hand to stop him. Aims inched his vehicle forward and stopped beside the guardsmen.
“Identification, please.”
Aims showed him his official badge and waited to be waived through.
“Sir, you are
not authorized to leave the facility.”
“What? Not authorized? I didn’t know I needed permission to conduct official FEMA business,” Aims said.
He felt his blood pressure rise and feared a migraine coming on.
“We are currently on lockdown. Only military personnel is authorized to leave at this time. This is for your safety.”
“Look, I have official business at the governor’s office. I have to be able to meet with government officials and people in the field in order to coordinate aid to the citizens of this region.”
“I have my orders, sir.”
Aims inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly. This was General Dempsey’s doing. He was sure of it.
“I’m sure that you do; however, you do not have the authority to impede the FEMA federal recovery efforts. My staff and I are not under the jurisdiction of the military. So, if you don’t mind, I am late for my meeting.”
The soldier walked away, talking on his radio. A moment later, the soldier stepped aside and waved Aims through the gate. As he drove away, he wondered if he’d ever see the place again.
The streets between the airport and the state capitol building had been cleared of all abandoned vehicles. Trash was still heaped at the curbs and the littered yards remained along the route. Aims guessed trash service wasn’t on Dempsey’s to-do-list.
A block before he reached the capital building was another checkpoint. He showed his identification to another soldier, but this time, he was allowed to proceed without issue. He parked his truck along the curb on Jackson street and had to show his identification once more to the guard at the gate. He walked up to the 163-year-old red brick mansion steps, curious to see inside, following all the $15 million renovations that he’d heard about in the news. The controversy over donations made in an alleged pay-to-play scheme had surrounded the project when it was underway.
More guards met him at the door, but they didn’t require him to show his identification. At the top of the stairs, the guard spoke into his radio. After a moment, he pointed toward a large double door at the end of the hall.
Just outside of the governor’s office, his administrative assistant put down his radio.
“You may go in. The governor and Administrator Harding are expecting you.”
News traveled fast.
Aims didn’t expect to get a meeting with the governor this easy.
“Come in, Mr. Aims. Mr. Harding was just telling me about FEMA operations around the state,” Governor McDonald said, waving him over.
Aims took a seat next to Harding. Harding gave him a quizzical look, then turned his attention back to the governor.
“As I told your staff last week, I am quite upset about the closing of the food distribution centers in the northern part of the state,” McDonald said.
The governor held up a hand before Harding could respond.
“I know. I realize that with the mass migration out of the metropolitan areas of Chicago that you have security issues, but that has left millions of residents without lifesaving food and water,” McDonald said.
Aims turned to Harding, then back to the governor.
“Sir, pardon me, but I have no knowledge of any distribution centers closing. I’ve been briefed on the security concerns by Glen Mitchell, but I have not authorized the closing of any food distribution sites,” Aims said.
His migraine was creeping up the back of his head. Any moment, the debilitating pain would overtake him. He reached down and patted his right front pocket where his two last remaining pills were located. He debated pulling them out and popping them in his mouth right then before the vice began squeezing his head.
“If you didn’t authorize the closings, who did?”
Aims cleared his throat and was just about to fill the governor in on Dempsey’s treasonous plan when Harding spoke up.
“We don’t know, but I can assure you. We are going to get to the bottom of this issue and get those aid stations back into operation right away,” Harding said, standing.
Aims hesitated, unsure why Harding hadn’t informed the governor of Dempsey’s plan to implement his own government and take control of the region’s resources.
“Let’s get back to the JFO and get our people back up there to re-open those centers, Aims,” Harding said as he turned to go.
“We will keep you informed, sir,” Aims said, following Harding to the door.
“Yes, you do that,” the governor replied.
“What the hell, Harding? Why didn’t you tell him?”
“Shush,” Harding said, grabbing Aims’ arm and slipping into an empty sitting room.
Aims looked around and was momentarily distracted by the beautiful decor of the newly renovated room. Above the enormous fireplace, hung a huge portrait of the governor, his wife, and their black Labrador retriever.
Aims thought about his own black lab, Gus. He hoped his dog walker had taken him home with her.
“Aims. Aims, if you’re finished playing tourist,” Harding said, startling Aims back to the present situation.
“Yeah. Why didn’t you tell him about Dempsey’s plan? I thought…”
“He’s dirty, Aims. Dempsey bought him, too.”
“What? Are you sure? He sounded genuinely upset about the centers closing.”
“He is stalling us. Dempsey’s people told him to hold us here until after they secure the port at Peoria.”
“Secure it? And then what?” Aims asked, rubbing his temples. His migraine now in full torture mode. Tiny specks of light danced at the edges of his vision. He reached into his pocket and fingered his last two pills. Deciding he may need them more later, he withdrew his hand.
“I overheard a radio transmission between one of the guards and Mitchell’s men. They will 'deal' with us after they return from taking control of Peoria. In the meantime, we’re not to be allowed to leave the governor’s mansion.”
Aims looked around. He could think of worse places to be held prisoner.
“So, what are we going to do?"
“I sent a courier to my counterparts in Kansas City and Denton, Texas. I doubt they have the ability to come to our aid, but my hope is that they can prevent the military in their regions from joining Dempsey.”
“Dempsey is expecting troops from Missouri to arrive here soon. I don’t know if I’d rely on region seven’s administrator’s powers of persuasion with the military.”
“Missouri’s governor has great clout with the military in his state. I trust him to make an effort to stop Dempsey. I am sure he doesn’t want a dictator taking over territory just two hundred miles from his door,” Harding said.
The door opened and a guard dressed in black pants and a white polo shirt poked his head in.
“This room is off limits to guests. I’ll need you to follow me if you don’t mind.”
Whether Harding and Aims minded or not, they found themselves being led out of the mansion to be detained at the capitol building to await the return of Mitchell and General Dempsey.
As Aims was speaking to the guard, Harding suddenly grabbed the distracted man’s sidearm and shoved him away in one fluid motion, disarming him. They’d underestimated Harding. Surprised by Harding’s action, Aims grabbed the man from behind to subdue him. Harding struck the guard in the head with the butt of the pistol, and Aims let the man fall to the ground.
“My truck is parked on Jackson. Do you think we can make it?” Aims asked.
“No, mine is parked in the alley off Edwards. Let’s go,” Harding called as he took off toward the alley.
As Harding turned the key in the old pickup, Aims asked, “Where the hell are we going?”
“South.”
South was good. It beat the north, he supposed. He hoped that Dempsey was too busy with his battle for control of Peoria to look for them, anyway.
Aims and Harding made it through the checkpoint out of the city of Springfield and headed south on Interstate 55. Aims wasn’t sure if they would make it to Missouri i
n time to save Peoria, but he hoped they could make it in time to convince the military in Missouri and Texas to not join Dempsey and to agree to help stop him before more innocent lives were lost to starvation and violence. If not, he feared that what was left of the United States would become regions ruled by dictators.
Chapter 15
Coffeyville, Kansas
Event + 14 days
After stealing the Bronco, Beth and Maria continued east on Highway 166 for twenty miles without seeing anything living. The flat land made it possible to see for miles. There were very few abandon cars on the highway in this sparsely populated rural area.
“Looks like a town up ahead. Why don’t you check out the glove box and see if there is a map so we can find a way around it? I’m really too tired for another carjacking,” Beth said.
Maria opened the glove box and a wad of papers fell out. She rummaged around in the cluttered compartment and finally pulled out a crumpled Kansas state map. Before long, Maria was able to route Beth around the town of Peru and two other small cities before they reached the outskirts of the city of Coffeyville, Kansas.
Beth looked down at the fuel gauge. It still had a quarter tank. They had passed several abandon vehicles, but without the gas cans and the oil container Maria brought with her from Kingman, they had no way to collect and transfer fuel from the other cars’ gas tanks.
“How much fuel do we have?” Maria asked, looking up from the map.
“About a quarter tank. The way this thing guzzles gas, we’ll be lucky to make it another twenty miles before we are on foot again.”
“Oh, that ain’t happening,” Maria said, turning her head and looking around.
“How are we going to collect fuel? Our cans are with the truck.”
“We’ll have to find one.”
Another mile down the road, Maria spotted a small fuel can in the back of an old beat-up pickup parked on the shoulder of the highway.