Charges

by Stephen Knight

  18

  Vincenzo wound through the working-class communities of Easton, Pennsylvania. The trash-lined streets probably hadn’t been all that safe at night when the lights were on, and they were likely a lot less so since the electricity was permanently off. There was no police presence about, which was not a great surprise. All the businesses were shuttered, save for Louie’s Bar, which was apparently still doing great commerce, judging by the amount of drunken locals out front. They jeered at Vincenzo as he drifted toward the opposite side of the street, but they didn’t come after him. Several of them had firearms, and he kept the walking stick in his left hand, sweating in nervous fear as he hurried past. The men cackled as he picked up the pace.

  “Run for the hills, you little pussy!” shouted a man with a huge beer gut spilling out from beneath his green T-shirt. He held a bottle of Johnny Walker Black in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He was missing some teeth beneath his bushy mustache. “Hurry, before I make you my bitch!”

  Vincenzo pressed on without comment. Two hours later, he was walking through the town of Wilson, which was a little further up the economic chart. Instead of row houses, the homes were colonials, bungalows, or capes on separate plots of land. Residents stood out on their lawns or porches, watching their kids play. Vincenzo was momentarily surrounded by some toddlers who encircled him with their Big Wheels and tricycles, all peppering him with questions about where he was going and why he was carrying such a big stick. He humored the kids while stepping around them, amazed that they were so open with a stranger. A man and a woman called the kids off, watching him with sharp eyes. Vincenzo tipped his cap to them and continued on, waving goodbye to the children.

  “Hey, don’t go!” called on girl astride a trike. She wore a pink dress, a helmet, and kneepads. Something that looked suspiciously like chocolate was spread across her lips. “Stay and play with us!”

  “Can’t, sweetie,” Vincenzo said. “I have to get back to my own family. You guys stay where your parents can see you, okay?”

  “Why don’t you bring your family here? Then we can all play together!” the girl countered.

  Vincenzo laughed. “I’d like to, but they’re pretty far away.”

  “Raquel, come back,” a woman called.

  “Aw, Mom!”

  “Listen to your mother,” Vincenzo told her. “She knows what’s best, okay?”

  The girl pouted. “Okay.”

  Vincenzo smiled and walked on, his walking stick hitting the pavement with metronomic regularity, underscoring each step he took. He trod past Monocacy Park, where he considered making camp, but he still had several hours of daylight left, and the park seemed to be full of people.

  In the outskirts of Allentown, the city was trying to reorganize under the guidance of the local and state police, with help from the fire department and public works. There were running trucks, all diesel, along with several buses. Vincenzo overcame his desire to remain anonymous and approached a group of firemen. He inquired about the buses and asked if there was a chance he could get a ride. The senior fireman told him he had to prove state residency or be in substantial need to benefit from any services.

  “I’m from California, on my way home to Los Angeles. Does that qualify as substantial need?” he asked.

  The fireman snorted. “Well, yeah, but we can’t help you there. If you keep walking west and find your way to Fort Indiantown Gap, the government has an aid camp set up. They might be able to get you squared away.”

  “How far from here is that?”

  The fireman considered it. “By walking? I don’t know, man. A day? Two days? Sorry, never walked it. You’d make better time if you get on the interstate, though.” The fireman wore a blue uniform and a baseball cap, and he was sweating heavily. Even though it was late in the day and cloud cover remained, it was still hot and humid. His chin was adorned with more than a few salt-and-pepper whiskers.

  “Yeah, but you’d better be careful if you do,” said a younger fireman sitting astride a ATV with knobby tires. Its small bed was laden with cases of water.

  “Why’s that?” Vincenzo asked.

  “Highwaymen are making a comeback,” the older fireman said, scratching his stubbly chin. “Not a lot of law enforcement on long stretches of the interstate. But you make it to the Gap, you won’t have to worry about security. It’s a National Guard training center, lots of guys in uniform there, plus FEMA and both state and federal government. Heard FEMA started moving in a few days ago. You might be able to get yourself a hot and a cot for a while.”

  Vincenzo nodded. “Thanks for the info.” He gestured at the water. “That for public consumption?”

  “It’s for us and for anyone who’s approaching heat exhaustion,” the younger fireman said.

  “Fair enough,” Vincenzo replied.

  “You said you’re headed to California?” the older fireman asked.

  “Sure am.”

  “Figure you’ll be able to cross the Rockies before winter sets in?”

  Vincenzo shrugged. “I hope so. Don’t plan on crossing the Rockies, anyway, more like the Sierra Nevadas. I’m heading for Los Angeles.”

  “That’s, like, twenty-five hundred miles from here,” the younger fireman said. He looked around at the other firefighters in his group, and they all shook their heads in bemused amazement.

  “Yeah, it is,” Vincenzo said.

  “Timmy, toss the man a bottle,” the older fireman said. “If he’s really on his way to California, he’s going to need it. You think you’ll be able to make it, if they don’t get the lights back on?”

  “No other choice, man. My family’s alone out there.”

  The younger fireman pulled a bottle of water out of one of the cases on the back of the ATV and handed it to the older man, who relayed it to Vincenzo.

  Vincenzo accepted it with a nod. “Thanks. Anything I can do for you guys?”

  “There is something,” the older fireman said. “My daughter lives in Tustin. You know where that is?”

  “Sure. Orange County.”

  “You do me a solid, and I’ll advance you one. If you make it before the lights come on, let her know her mom and me are doing okay. She’s twenty-three. Went out there to try and get into the movies. We haven’t heard from her since a few weeks before the event, so if you can somehow manage it, track her down and let her know we were fine when you saw us. Okay?”

  “Sure, I can try and help you out. I can’t promise you I’ll make it, but if I do, I’ll relay the message,” Vincenzo said. “Just tell me where to find her.”

  The older fireman reached into his back pocket and pulled out a business card. From a pocket on his sleeve he removed a pen. He turned and, using the cases of water on the back of the ATV as a desk, scribbled something across the back of the card. When he was finished, he handed the card to Vincenzo. “Her name and address.”

  On the back of the card was the name Erica Guardino accompanied by an address in Tustin, California. He flipped the card over. The name on the front was Captain Gregory Guardino, Allentown Fire Department.

  Vincenzo tucked the card in his shirt pocket. “I’ll do it. Thanks for the water and info.” He hitched up his hiking pack and firmed up his grip on the walking stick.

  The older fireman held up his hand. “Hold on a second, cowboy. I said I’d pay the favor forward, and I wasn’t talking about giving you a bottle of water and the tip about the Gap.” He turned back to the younger fireman on the ATV. “Timmy, give the man a ride to the stationhouse. He can bunk there tonight. Let him take a shower and square away his gear, and he can take off from there tomorrow.”

  The younger fireman looked a little put out. “Seriously? We’re going to let a stranger into the stationhouse?”

  “If this is going to cause some heartburn, then thanks for the offer, but I’ll be on my way,” Vincenzo said. “The water’s enough, and I’ll do what I can to get a message to your daughter. But it’s going to be two or three mon
ths before she gets it.”

  “Then at least let me offer you a shower,” Guardino said. “We have a generator at the stationhouse we crank up a couple of times a day. We’re about to come off shift, so you can hang with us, have a shower, and head off. Or you’re welcome to stay. You’ve only got maybe two hours before it gets dark. And tomorrow, I can run you into the sixth ward when I head for the firehouse.”

  “Damn, boss, you’re being a bit generous,” the younger fireman said.

  “And if your kid was out there on the other side of the country and someone was willing to pass her a message, you wouldn’t want to show some gratitude?” Guardino asked.

  The younger guy just shrugged. A couple of cops wandered over and gave Vincenzo the once-over, then they seemed to forget about him.

  “Listen, guys, I don’t want to cause any problems here,” Vincenzo said. “A shower sounds great but not if it’s going to cause a major morale issue.”

  “Hey, I’m good with it if it’s what the captain wants,” the younger fireman said. He dismounted and started unloading the cases of water. “I’ll leave these here with you, Cap. Be back in ten.”

  “Thanks, Lonnie,” Guardino said. “Explain it to the rest of the guys for me, in case they have some questions.”

  “Ten-four.” Lonnie climbed back onto the ATV. “Come on, guy. Today’s your lucky day.”

  Vincenzo hopped on behind him, and Lonnie kick-started the ATV into life. He threaded the rugged vehicle through the stream of people marching into Allentown and crossed the intersection. Once he made it to the other side, he accelerated south down Irving Street.

  The fire station was across a large park that seemed mostly empty. Vincenzo considered it as a place to hole up for the night, as his presence at the fire station might cause more friction than he was interested in enduring. But when the ATV stopped in front of the clean brick firehouse, he decided maybe he could withstand a little bit of heat as long as he had the senior man’s backing.

  “Place looks great,” Vincenzo said as he dismounted.

  “Yeah, I never knew it was going to be turned into a Holiday Inn Express,” Lonnie said.

  Vincenzo pointed across the street. “I’ll hang out in the park tonight. I’m not interested in making trouble for you guys. I know Captain Guardino’s trying to butter me up to contact his kid, but you guys shouldn’t have to suffer for it.”

  Lonnie waved a hand and got off the ATV. “If it’s what he wants, it’s what he wants. Don’t sweat it. You have a sleeping bag with you, so no one’s going to be put out by giving up their bunk. Don’t be expecting air conditioning, though. We don’t have the generator juice to run it. Come on. I’ll introduce you to the rest of the guys, and you can have a shower. Maybe wash some clothes if you need to.”

  “Damn, that sounds great,” Vincenzo said, thinking of the wet, and possibly moldering, clothes in his pack.

  “As long as we have the power to run the water pumps, you’re good to go,” Lonnie said, walking toward the station.

  Vincenzo hiked up his pack and followed. Lonnie unlocked the front door and stepped through, holding it half-open for Vincenzo. Lonnie locked the door behind them.

  A fireman sitting behind a desk asked, “Hey, who’s this? You know we aren’t supposed to have any civilians in here!”

  “Hey, Jescoe. Cap offered him a shower and a place to sleep,” Lonnie said. “He’s going to check on his daughter in California.”

  “Oh, is that so?” Jescoe was older than Lonnie and severely bulked up, a true metal pumper. He regarded Vincenzo with small, dark, porcine eyes that didn’t reflect a lot of human warmth. “We supposed to give him a blow job, too?”

  “I just do what I’m told,” Lonnie said. “If the guy’s going to help out the cap, then let the captain repay him however he wants. No skin off your ass. Right?”

  “No skin off my ass? What if the water runs out? What if a pipe bursts because this guy’s taking a shower? What if the water heater fails? That’s not skin off my ass?”

  “However you want to look at it, Jescoe. You work for the same guy I do. When he comes in, bitch to him, not to me.” Lonnie waved Vincenzo deeper into the station. “Come on, guy. What’s your name, anyway?”

  “Tony Vincenzo.”

  “Yeah, how ya doin’? I’m Lonnie, and this lug here is Jescoe. Say hello to Mr. Tony Vincenzo, Jescoe.”

  Jescoe scowled. “Fuck both of you.”

  “That’s how he says hello,” Lonnie said. “He’s a public relations expert. That’s why the department keeps him around. Follow me.”

  Lonnie led him upstairs to the communal shower area. There were three toilet stalls and three showers behind closed vinyl curtains. The white-tiled room was illuminated by a single wire-mesh window that allowed the light of day to filter inside.

  “Generator’s going to be on in about”—Lonnie checked his watch—“a little over six minutes. You’ll have to wait until then before you can shower because the water pump won’t run without it. When it does come on, turn on the water, get wet, turn off the water, soap up, then rinse. Don’t stand in there for twenty minutes taking a Hollywood shower. In the meantime, if you want to use the facilities, go right ahead. There’s a bucket of water beside each toilet. Use it to flush.” He pushed open one of the toilet stall doors and pointed out the blue plastic bucket beside the commode.

  “Damn, this is better than any Holiday Inn Express I’ve ever stayed at,” Vincenzo said.

  “Yeah, well, don’t get too cozy. Jescoe’s probably going to bitch to the captain about this, so you’d better get ready to vamanos as soon as you can. If you have laundry, we’ll spot you on that, but once it’s out and dry, you might be shown the door. Guardino’s a great guy and all, but if the rest of the guys are bent out of shape by you being here, then he’ll do what he has to do.”

  “That’s no problem.”

  “All right. There are twelve guys rotating in and out, and two are here right now. I’ll find Harry and let him know you’re around. Captain and I should be back in an hour or so. Any questions?”

  “No. Tell all the guys I really appreciate this, though. If there are any hard feelings, pass them on, and I’ll be gone.”

  “There are, but you’re good for now. Later, guy.”

  The rest of the firemen didn’t seem as put out as Jescoe was, but Vincenzo got the impression the rest of the team thought the big firefighter was a prick anyway. He had his shower but kept the Beretta on the floor just outside the stall with the curtain parted slightly so he could keep an eye on it. He scrubbed furiously, eroding the mantle of dried sweat that covered him and washing the grime out of his hair. He would be in need of a haircut in the near future.

  The firefighters allowed him to wash his musty clothes in their washing machine, along with a load of their uniforms. They were pretty nonchalant about it, but Vincenzo could tell they were going through the motions. There was a definite sense of urgency lurking behind the calm, collected masks they wore. If he hadn’t already spent days on the road looking at people with the same kind of feigned indifference to what was going on, he might have missed it. But the firefighters were nervous, even scared. Vincenzo couldn’t blame them. The community was depending on them to help out, and the firemen were used to conveniences like radios, running vehicles, and functioning public utilities to help them do their jobs. Most of that was gone. They were back in the pre-industrial age, and they had to learn to forget a great deal of their training. Firefighting, life-saving, and emergency response were going to be much riskier.

  Captain Guardino returned to the firehouse and found Vincenzo in the laundry room. “Well, you look better,” the captain said.

  “And I feel a lot better,” Vincenzo replied. “Thanks for all the hospitality you’ve shown me. Your guys have been great. I really appreciate it. You have no idea what a hot shower feels like. I figured I’d never have one again.” He turned and pointed at the running washing machine behind him. “And th
at’s practically black magic.”

  Guardino smiled. “Yeah, we’re fortunate to have it. And five thousand gallons of diesel fuel for the generator. Once that’s gone, though, we’re going to have some trouble. We have the fuel in the tanker and ladder truck, but that’s about it.”

  “Do they still run? Your trucks?”

  Guardino shook his head. “Electrical harnesses are fried. We’re looking into getting them replaced, but other stations have priority. We’re not in the most heavily populated area, so we’re basically left with two ATVs. If a fire breaks out, we’ll have to piss on it then start spitting for good measure.” He shrugged. “We’ll figure it out. Anyway, we’re going to sit down for dinner. We still have some grub left that we need to get through before we start in on the boxed goods. You want to join us?”

  “I don’t know, Captain. That might not be very well received. Your guys are going to get a little bent with all this favoritism.”

  “Hey, their families come here and shower and eat, too. They’re not getting nothing for something, trust me. Toss the clothes in the dryer when they’re done washing then come down for some chow. We’d all like to hear what’s going on out there.”

  “Well, if you say it’s okay, but I’m starting to feel like a bit of a freeloader.”

  Once the laundry was in the dryer, Vincenzo went down and discovered that two platters of frozen lasagna had been made. The kitchen cabinetry was fire-engine red, which he found to be appropriate under the circumstances. Four firemen sat at the table, including Guardino and Lonnie; the others were out at checkpoints. A pair of axes leaned against one wall, and Vincenzo looked at them curiously.

  “We keep them handy at night in case there’s trouble,” Lonnie said, noticing Vincenzo’s interest. “And they’re not too bad to have on hand during the day, too.”