“Well, crap.”
He’d heard a few times that the water in the back of the toilet tank was clean, so off went the lid, and in went the bottle. He figured as long as he added iodine like they used to do when hiking, it would be fine, even if it were a little germy.
Moving on to his bedroom, he paused as he looked at the giant, pillow-top, king-sized mattress. “I’m going to miss you,” he said, thinking of the long nights he and Herbie had ahead of them out on the road. Sarah’s jewelry had been stolen. That was no surprise. He knew that his daughter still wore her mother’s wedding ring around her neck, and he took some solace in that. It would have infuriated him if thieves had stolen something so dear.
Fortunately, the looters must have been in a hurry. There was a small safe in the closet, something inexpensive that wouldn’t have stood up to a determined burglar. Thom cursed, remembering that the locking mechanism was one of those biometric fingerprint situations. Not the most useful way to unlock things under the current circumstances. Thankfully there was a physical key that could be used in a power outage; he just had to hope it was still where he’d left it.
Thom slid his hand to the top of the doorframe just inside the closet and felt his fingers rub against the key he’d taped to the wall. Ripping the key from the drywall, he quickly opened the small safe and grinned. His father in-law had left Sarah and him a small collection of firearms when he’d passed. Thom had never really been a “gun guy,” but he wasn’t one of the people out there who blamed all of society’s problems on them, either. They were a tool, and he’d just never grown up in an environment that would lead him to be proficient in firing them.
He and his wife had sold a few of them over the years to collectors, but there were still two guns remaining. One of the guns was a newer model Walther PPQ handgun chambered in 9mm, the other a Ruger 10/22 rifle. Thankfully there was still a box of ammunition for each of the weapons left in the safe, though he had no idea how old it was or how long it had been since either of the guns had been cleaned.
The grin that split his face was a perfect reflection of the joy he felt. He barely knew how to use the guns properly, but he knew that Herbie would show him later.
Clothing was next. Thom had hiked often enough in the past to know the value of thick socks, clean undies, and dressing in layers, so those items took priority.
Hygiene was next, so Thom stepped into the master bath. “Master” was such a misleading word; it never seemed to quite fit the humble bathroom attached to his bedroom, and Thom wondered, not for the first time, where that particular naming convention had come from.
Thom reached under the sink and grabbed two tubes of toothpaste and a couple of new toothbrushes he always kept on hand in case of guests. He also grabbed dental floss, both for its obvious uses and for use as cordage. It was strong, it could hold a knot, and he had plenty of it, and so if he needed to tie something together he wouldn’t necessarily need to cut up his good climbing rope. He also grabbed some unscented antiperspirant, a few bars of soap, and a couple of rolls of toilet paper. He’d take the tubes out later to save space and put the paper into sandwich bags to keep them dry.
After heading back into the living room where Herbie still snored away, he realized the mound of supplies was growing to a level that would be difficult to carry. An idea struck him then, and he walked over and woke the old man up.
“Herbie. Get up. We need to get this stuff packed up.”
The old man stirred, and when his eyes finally settled on the pile of cookware, medicine, clothing, random odds and ends of food, hygiene items, and the two firearms, he couldn’t help but stare.
“You have got to be kidding me. There’s no way we can carry all that. Maybe when I was younger, but not now. There’s just no way my back could take it. I sincerely doubt yours would fare much better,” he said, poking a finger into Thom’s soft stomach.
Thom grinned. “Follow me, if your geriatric back can take it. I’ve got an idea.”
Herbie grumbled but followed Thom into the garage.
“All right, Thom, I’m here. Now what in the world is this idea of yours?”
Thom pointed, and Herbie’s humor sank to a new low.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. Tell me you’re kidding me. Please be kidding me?”
“Afraid not, old man.”
“I was worried you’d say that.”
“Nothing to be done about it, though. You know it’s better than walking.”
Herbie sighed, an admission of defeat. “All right, then, let’s get packing.”
Chapter 3 – Bumpy Ride
Brian fell. He had a split second to realize that Red had just yelled out “Parkour!” before he landed.
Anna watched, horrified, from the cab of the truck as Brian fell. He was airborne for the span of a couple of heartbeats before the truck rocked under the impact. She watched as he hit the mattresses that were stacked at a slight angle, collapsed like a sack of potatoes, and bounced hard into the side of the truck bed. The next few seconds were frantic. Anna’s mouth opened, and she let out a scream. Sephi was there in a moment, trying to get her under control. Trinity prayed, loudly. Bruce pounded the side of the truck bed with his hand, shouting for Matthew to drive. Red just stared at his bloodied, unconscious friend for a moment, obviously in shock.
A single gunshot rang out, and Anna looked up to the third floor of the garage, where she saw a familiar face pointing a pistol their way; Frosted Tips, that sociopath from the cafeteria. Another shot, and a bullet tore through the glass in the back of the cab, where it narrowly missed Trinity before passing through the windshield. Where in the heck had he gotten a gun?
Matthew recovered first and slammed his foot on the gas. The old truck’s tires split clouds of white smoke before they finally gained traction, sending them off into the city.
The next few minutes went by in a slow haze for Anna. Red and Bruce kept Brian rolled over on his side so that he wouldn’t choke on the blood pouring from his crushed nose. Anna couldn’t look back after she saw the blood caked on his face, so she focused on the surroundings instead.
The campus streets were fairly clear of traffic, and the drive gave her time to process everything.
This had been fun, at first. Like an adventure. It had been amazing to see the kids come together to put out some of the smaller fires yesterday. “Has it only been a day?” she wondered. Anna rolled back the film in her brain, and realized that yes, it was only the day after…whatever it was…had happened. It was the evening of the second day.
The truck turned onto one of the main roads, exited campus, and then slowed. Cars still clogged the streets, and Matthew carefully avoided broken glass and debris from several accidents.
Anna noted that the handful of grocery stores they passed had all been looted. It struck her as funny to see the parking lot devoid of any shopping carts. Most of the people probably had no other way to get their ill-gotten gains home. Curiously enough, the only grocery store they passed that looked relatively unscathed was the one located right next to a gun shop. She could see people out in the parking lot with rifles stationed every few feet. They’d wheeled cars around the entrances of the store like an old wagon train. “Circling the wagons,” it was called. A large plywood sign made the message crystal clear. It read, “Looters will be shot” in large, red, spray-painted letters.
Matthew drove north, crossing over I-70 to the north side of town. They passed a large outdoor gear store and continued on into the suburbs. They turned into some neighborhoods after passing an elementary school, and Anna lost track of where they were on the map. Moments later, they pulled into a driveway. Matthew jumped out, fumbled with his key ring, and pulled the garage door up. After he hopped back in, they pulled the truck into the empty garage and shut it off. After that, everyone sprang into action. Matt took char
ge.
“Bruce, Red, grab Brian. Make sure he’s on his side. Lay a few towels down under him, I don’t want blood all over my bed. Laundry’s going to be a pain as it is. Trinity, you’re the pro. Take care of him. There are a few supplies in the hall closet if you need them. Sephi and Anna, you and I will unload this truck. After we do, we need to head back to that elementary school. This needs to happen today.
Everyone hustled off to do their jobs, and Anna, Sephi, and Matt unloaded the truck. They didn’t bother organizing at this point; it was more important just to clear the truck bed for whatever Matt had planned.
“Who was that guy, Matt?”
“Dude with the hard-on for violence back there?”
“Yeah.”
“His name’s Dan. We roomed together last year. Guy’s a jerk.”
“I can tell. I ran into him in the dining hall earlier. I made the mistake of asking him to stop breaking all of the plates. I thought he was going to attack me. Thank God Brian showed up when he did, or I don’t know what would have happened.”
“He might have. Like I said, kid’s a jerk. Got some screws loose. Never felt safe living under the same roof as him, so I moved out about a month into the semester. Brian almost managed to get him kicked out of the dorms. He said he got a report of some illicit materials being kept in Dan’s room. Wouldn’t say what happened after that, though, or how Dan got to stay.”
“You think he’s someone we need to worry about?”
“Nah. Don’t think he knows where we live. Even if he did, I’m sure he’s got other things to keep him busy.”
“Let’s hope.”
After the trio finished unloading the truck, they stepped into the bedroom where Brian had been taken.
Anna covered her mouth at the sight of him, kneeling by her new friend’s side. His nose had obviously been broken, and blood caked his face, neck, and shirt. His lips were swollen, and his eyes had both started to blacken. He was still unconscious. Trinity sat in a chair by his side, holding a bag of slightly frozen peas to the bridge of his nose.
“His nose is broken. When he landed, his knees were bent, which is probably what saved his legs from breaking, but they came up and hit him in the mouth. That’s why his lips look like they do. One of his front teeth was buried pretty deeply in the tissue there. Mouth wounds heal quickly, though. He shouldn’t need stiches. They just bleed like crazy. I’m guessing the nose thing happened when he hit the side of the truck bed. I’ve done what I can, and I’m just holding something cold on it to try and keep the swelling down. Whenever he comes around, he’s going to be hurting like crazy.” She looked up at Anna. “All in all, it looks worse than it is. He’s going to hurt pretty badly, but he’ll be okay.”
“What aren’t you saying, Trinity?”
Trinity hesitated for a moment and gathered her thoughts. “He hit his head pretty hard. The knees, and then the truck. He’s probably suffered a concussion, which sucks. Usually with a concussion, if you go unconscious, it’s just for a few minutes. Brian’s been out for a while now. If he doesn’t come around soon, we could be looking at something more serious.”
“What can we do?” Anna asked, a tinge of panic in her voice.
“Not much. Right now, it’s pretty much a waiting game. We stick around, observe, see what happens when he wakes up.”
Matt put a hand on Anna’s shoulder. “We need to get going, Anna. There’s work that still needs doing.”
Anna nodded and stood from Brian’s side.
Matt walked to a cabinet in the room and fiddled with the handle for a moment. He opened the door and pulled a couple of guns from a rack.
“Red, this is a shotgun. Have you ever fired one before?”
Red shook his head. “No. I don’t really like guns. They scare me.”
Matt grinned. “That’s good, but you don’t need to be scared. They only fire if you tell them to. Hold it like this,” he said, placing the weapon in Red’s arms. “If anyone threatens you, you point it their way. Don’t just point and shoot; it’s not like a video game. You still need to aim using this little iron sight. Line it up like this. See?”
Red nodded, his hands shaking slightly.
“Good man. Keep your finger off of that trigger until you’re ready, and don’t point the barrel at anything you don’t want to kill. It’s always loaded. Even when it’s empty, it’s always loaded, okay?”
Red nodded again, looking like he was going to throw up.
Matt walked to Bruce and handed him a rifle. “This is a Remington 700 rifle. You’ve got five shots of .223. After each one, you pull back the bolt like this, and then move it forward again after the cartridge is ejected. Does that make sense?”
Bruce nodded.
“I’ve fired one before. Once.”
Matt clapped him on the shoulder. “Good man. You guys keep everyone safe while we’re gone.”
“Where you guys headed?”
Matt’s eyes sparkled when he spoke, and he tapped a finger along the side of his nose. “That’s a surprise.”
…
Dan stood on the third floor of the parking garage and watched as the pickup truck disappeared from sight. He turned and was greeted by the sight of twenty or thirty college students who just a few hours earlier had been all peace and love and “Let’s just have a good time.” Dan noticed that they flinched when he turned to face them, and he realized he still held his gun at the ready. Well, that was one cat that he wasn’t going to be able to put back into the bag. He noticed something else, though; these people were scared of him, but they were also waiting. Waiting for him to act, to speak. To lead.
Dan felt a shiver of pleasure run up his spine, and a smile touched his lips.
“This is going to be fun.”
Chapter 4 – A Chat with Guillermo
Guillermo paused in his conversation with his wife, Rosa, and laughed so hard he had to work to catch his breath. Rosa, concerned for her husband’s health, bent over to see if maybe he was choking. Guillermo just pointed.
Herbie and Thom were riding a purple tandem bicycle with a bright, neon-colored nylon cart attached to the back, the kind typically used to haul small children around. The cart appeared to be loaded heavily with supplies. Thom wore a huge grin on his face while Herbie cussed up a storm. Each man had a gun slung over his shoulder.
“That’s a very nice ride you’ve got there, gentlemen. Very intimidating,” Guillermo grinned.
He said something to his wife in Spanish, and she smiled.
Rosa said something in return, and Guillermo’s laughing fit doubled. Herbie glared daggers, but sweet Rosa just smiled and ushered the men into the garage to park their bike.
“What did she say?” Thom asked Guillermo when he’d finally recovered.
Guillermo shook his head with mirth. “I told her purple is the color of kings. She reminded me it was also the color for madmen.”
Thom laughed, and Herbie groaned.
The men closed the garage door and were escorted into the kitchen.
“Please, gentlemen, sit down. Rosa, please heat some water and bring the yerba mate for our guests.”
Rosa headed into the kitchen where she filled a kettle with water from a pitcher and put it on a propane burner.
Guillermo sat down at the table and took out a cigarette.
“Smoke?”
“No, thank you,” Thom said.
“I quit a few years ago, thank you though,” added Herbie.
“Do you mind if I do?”
The two men shook their heads. It was Guillermo’s house, after all.
Rosa entered and laid a gourd-shaped container on the table. It held what looked like tightly-packed, crushed tea leaves and a large metal straw sticking out of the center. She poured hot water o
ver the mate and waited a moment before placing it in front of Thom.
At that point, she joined the men at the table.
“Thomas, you will drink first,” said Rosa.
Thom looked a little confused. Thankfully, Guillermo spoke up.
“Mate is a drink you share with friends. Take a few sips and pass it clockwise. Rosa will refill the container with water when it’s empty. It’s like tea, or coffee. It’s good. It will give you energy.” He smiled, motioning for Thom to drink.
The four of them drank mate and chatted about inconsequential things for a few minutes. Most of it was about Anna as a child; silly things she’d done, times when Rosa had scolded her for playing in their flowerbed, things like that. The conversation turned once again to the present when Rosa rose from the table and wobbled on her feet. She steadied herself and left the room, but the mood had shifted from happy nostalgia to something darker
It was Guillermo who spoke first. “Gentlemen, do you think this situation will last much longer?”
“Months. Years, maybe,” Herbie said glumly. “I think we’ve been hit with something called an EMP. It’s fried most of the electronics that were built in the last few decades. Even if there’s help on the way, it might take a while for it to trickle down to us. They’ll have bigger things on their minds first.”
The bravado left Guillermo then. “I was afraid of that,” he said. “We went through hard times in Argentina, but at least then we knew the end would come eventually. There was news, radio. Now we have nothing.”
He paused, taking another sip of mate before continuing. “My wife does not have much time. Without a way to get more insulin and keep it cold, she’s going to be gone soon, and when she leaves, I’ll follow her. We’ve been married so long, I don’t think I could manage life without her. Especially in this new world.” He took another drink of mate and passed it on to Herbie. “I wanted to bring you two here to wish you luck on your journey and to offer you something that might help you on your way.” He pulled an old velvet bag from a nearby drawer and laid it on the table. Untying the cord that kept the bag closed, he gently spilled the contents — several rolls of dimes and an old pocket watch — out onto the table.
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