by JK Franks
They ducked for cover in the darkened median. “Why in the hell are these roads so wide?” Steve whispered. He had never noticed it driving, but now he knew it must be over a hundred yards with fencing on both sides. The first half hadn’t been too bad, but they still had the last fifty. A loose rock or scuff of a shoe could give them all away. Steve wasn’t sure what misery getting caught might be, and he didn’t want to find out. They made it into the woods on the opposite side and over the fence before a bright light turned on and they heard the sharp command to halt. “Oh shit!” Gerald whispered.
27
It took a moment for Steve to realize the light was not pointing at him or Gerald. In the dash across the road, JD had pulled ahead and away from them by a good fifty yards. He now stood with his hands up in the beam of the light. A soldier had a rifle pointed at the boy’s head. The scene immediately enraged Steve who stood to approach, but a restraining hand from Gerald kept him still and silent.
“It’s just a boy . . . just a kid, man. Hey, lil dude, what are you doing out here? Have you been in the camp?” They could see a dark-skinned soldier holding the flashlight and talking to JD. Another stood just outside the cone of light holding the rifle. “Lower the gun, dude, he’s just a kid. What are you eleven, twelve?”
“I’m uh, I’m uh, twelve sir,” JD said in a shaky voice. He glanced briefly in the direction of the man with the gun before looking away.
“Twelve? Kinda young to be in the woods alone. Who you got wid cha?”
Steve just knew the kid was about to lose it. Gerald had belly-crawled closer to the two soldiers. He held his breath waiting for JD’s response.
The quake in the boy’s voice was even more pronounced. “I got lost, I was on my way home and got turned around in the woods.”
“Wait, so you live around here?” the other soldier said.
“Back near town, yes, sir.”
Steve was stunned hearing how quickly JD came up with an answer. The boy was sharp. No wonder Gerald liked him.
“What town, LaGrange? You stays in LaGrange?”
“Uh huh, yes.”
“Shit, boy, you six . . . hell, maybe seven miles from there.” The two soldiers spoke more quietly to one another. It seemed they were trying to decide what to do with JD. “We ain’t sposed be detaining town folk yet. Specially not kids . . . that ain’t right.”
“You take him, I ain’t walking that far just to be told to turn him loose.”
The other soldier responded, “They don’t turn nobody loose, just put ‘em to work.”
“Look, lil man, you think you can find yo way from here? Yo wayz home?”
“I, I guess so. I think I know where it is,” JD answered optimistically.
“Aight, we gonna let you go head, but listen up—you run into any other patrols don’t mentions we did this. I got a lil’ brother who’s twelve, ‘bout yo size too. I hope somebody might look after him in all dis mess.”
JD seemed almost giddy, “Yes sir, thank you, sir.”
Steve let out a nervous sigh of relief. Start walking kid, get the hell away.
The one with the rifle turned on his light and pointed the beam behind him and said, “It’s pretty much that way. Just walk straight and try to avoid guys that look like us.”
JD thanked them and started walking, then stopped and turned. “You guys have anything I could eat? I’m hungry and thirsty. That’s what I was out looking for today.”
Gerald looked back at Steve smiling and shaking his head. Steve knew exactly what Gerald was thinking: the boy had his respect too. While the soldiers retrieved some MREs and bottled water for JD, the men quietly worked their way behind them. Several minutes later they were all back together, JD’s pack sagging low with the supplies.
Once well below the camp, they angled back closer to I-85. They could see this section of road had not been cleared. As they approached the first exit to the nearby town of LaGrange, they felt comfortable enough to finally walk along the edge of the roadway. None of them had spoken since the encounter other than to point out hazards in the way. It seemed that the troop presence and patrols were all behind them now, but no one wanted to take any chances.
As the morning sky began to lighten, the traveler’s confidence improved. “Kid, I gotta tell you, that was some impressive storytelling back there,” said Gerald smiling. “I thought we were all done for when that light came on. You did good, man . . . really good. Can’t believe you went back and asked for food after they let you go. Ballsy!”
JD just grinned and nodded. “They seemed pretty nice. I was a little scared at first, but I don’t think they wanted to hurt me. How far is it to the river?”
“Judging by the mile markers looks like sixteen miles to the state line. That should be the river,” Steve answered. He grinned as he saw one of his dealerships’ name badges on the back of a stalled car. The nearly new Ford SUV had been on one of his lots in just the last few months. The thought of it made him smile; just a touch of something familiar gave him hope he might see home again.
“Hey Gerald, I just remembered something. Before I ran into you guys, I was checking every abandoned car for supplies. Since we are running low, we might need to do that again.”
“Yeah, I was doing the same, but I have a better idea. Most of these freight trucks sitting around will be full of stuff. Most food stores have to get deliveries every day, so good bet some of them have food—maybe even lots of food.”
JD went up to the closest one and jiggled the padlock on the doors. “So how do we get into them?”
“Ah yes, there is that little detail. We need to find a master key. I can pick some locks—just a hobby I got—but I don’t want to spend time picking them all. Instead, look for a stalled contractor pickup. You know the kind that a construction or plumbing company might use.”
Steve was puzzled at Gerald’s request but kept an eye out and pointed out several. Each time, Gerald shook his head. Finally, JD spotted one on the far side that he liked. The white truck had a large job box style toolbox on the bed. Gerald jumped up in the back and tried the lid of the box to no avail. He then reached into his pack and retrieved a small black pouch. He slid out several uniquely shaped tools that looked more like dental instruments. He inserted them into the lock and moving one hand while twisting with the other, sprang the lock in minutes.
“Yes!” Gerald held up a large tool with long handles and a pretty serious set of cutting jaws at the other end. “Master key.”
“Those are bolt cutters,” Steve said.
“Yeah, same thing.”
For the next several miles Gerald would cut the lock off any truck they came across and quickly check the contents. He told them that food deliveries would likely be on trucks by themselves, so they skipped on past any that didn’t quickly look like consumables. They encountered trucks full of auto parts, bags of chemicals, machine pieces that no one could identify, clothes of all sorts and trailer loads of lawn mowers, furniture and TVs. The valuable items of yesterday now nearly useless.
They had opened up over a dozen trucks when they came to the first one worth digging through. This one was smaller, and the cargo box had an assortment of items. Most of what they saw when they opened it up were pallets of toys and cleaning supplies. Far in the back, though, they saw cases of cereal and canned goods. “Jackpot!” Steve said.
JD’s eyes lit up as he grabbed a basketball from a box and a snack cake from another. “Don’t overdo it, only get things we can easily carry,” cautioned Gerald, trying not to hurt the boy’s feelings. “We may have to repeat this a few times before we get home. I feel sure others will be doing the same thing soon. So…these will be a resource for only so long.”
The canned goods were tempting, but were just too heavy to take very many. They decided to make a fire and have a large meal before continuing. Their packs were now bulging with dry goods, beef jerky, drink mix and even some candy and vitamins. Gerald had also grabbed several boxes of large
commercial trash bags. “That truck was perfect,” JD said.
Gerald agreed. “Probably some local delivery truck from a supply warehouse. Those tend to hit the smaller stores around. The ones that can’t handle full pallets of a single item.”
Steve nodded; that would make sense. “We will need to keep an eye out for more of those.”
“Or just find the supply warehouses,” JD said before taking another big mouthful of soup.
Gerald and Steve shook their heads. “This kid’s a genius. How does he keep thinking this stuff up before we do?” Steve asked. JD just smiled.
“We are out of date, last year’s models,” Gerald replied with a grin. “This was a good idea and a good find. We have a lot to carry, and this damn lock cutter is heavy, but I don’t dare leave it behind.”
It was dusk before they reached the state line. The Chattahoochee River ran thirty feet below where they stood on the bridge. They didn’t see anything that looked likely for finding a boat or kayak. “I think we should camp for the night and start looking again at sunrise,” Gerald said.
They crossed to the Alabama side and began setting up camp under the bridge. Settling in, they built a small fire, and Steve broke out a gourmet meal of canned tuna and crackers. “This turned into a pretty good day despite the way it began.”
“Absolutely!” the others agreed. JD was busy eating a mostly melted candy bar and grinning ear to ear, chocolate stains across both cheeks.
Wish they all could be this good, Steve thought, knowing that was a very unlikely wish.
“Careful, Steve, the life of a hobo and a thief is starting to appeal to you,” Gerald said.
“Not likely, but I do now know I am willing to do a lot to survive. More than I realized.” He felt the outline of the pistol still in his pack. How far would I be willing to go?
28
Perhaps it was the exhaustion from the previous day or the relaxing sounds of the river, but none of the group awoke until well after sunrise. Steve came awake with a start as JD was saying something quietly and pointing up toward the highway above.
“What is it?” he whispered.
“Group of guys on bikes,” came the boy’s response.
“Motorcycles?” asked Gerald who was now also awake.
“Nope, bicycles. The racing kind, you know. They had guns and looked like bad news. They kept going, though.”
Bicycles . . . damn, that would have been smart. Why hadn’t they thought to get a few of those? They could have made really good time. Steve let the thought linger. Most likely would have run right into one of those sweeper patrols, too. No way to avoid the roads on a bike.
“Probably a hunting party from one of the nearby towns,” Gerald said. “No matter what, we should eat something and get moving down this river as soon as we can.”
The river was wide and looked foreboding. The murky brown water was flowing faster than Steve had expected. It had not looked deep from the bridge above, but today, down here close to it, he was not as sure. “Where are we going to find boats or kayaks or something?
Gerald was eating canned pasta and scanning the banks of the river in every direction. Nodding he said, “I don’t know, I’m sure some of the houses nearby would likely have some, but that may not be safe. Do you know of any outfitters or recreational areas nearby?”
Steve thought about it but shook his head. “I don’t recall much, only been through here a few times. Light industrial, older homes, just a quiet southern town, West Point I believe it’s called. Think there’s a dam and reservoir back up the river ten or fifteen miles. Just not sure about anything near here.”
“Yeah, I don’t want to go north that far. We could just use some logs, drop them in the water and use any that float to hang onto. That way we could scan the shore for houses and boats.”
Steve warily eyed the water again. “That seems pretty risky, especially with these heavy bags.” He sat looking at the river trying to come up with something. “When I was a kid we would tie old inner tubes together and put boards over the top to make a raft. Most car tires these days are tubeless though.”
Gerald snapped his fingers and held one up as an idea formed. “That’s a good idea.”
“What, tubes? We won’t find any, man.”
“No, but the same concept. We need to do a bit of scavenging. You guys follow me.”
Gerald led them back to the interstate and pointed at a truck on the far side. “You guys remember what that one had?”
JD began to nod, then Steve smiled as realization took root: empty metal drums, a truck full of various sizes.
They tossed about ten of the smaller drums down to the river’s edge. Then they found some wooden pallets and wire in another truck to use as a makeshift platform. By mid-morning, they had the drums secured to the pallet raft and had lowered it into the water.
“It floats,” JD said triumphantly.
Gerald was scratching his head. “Not going to be too stable, sits too high in the water. Two can ride, but one of us will need to hang on to the side and help steer.”
They packed their gear in another empty drum and lashed it to the side with more wire. Steve and JD took the first turn riding as Gerald leaned to push the raft out into the current and jumped in after. “Damn, that water is deep!” he said as he came up sputtering but smiling.
They had broken off boards from more pallets to use as paddles, but the current was strong enough—they mainly used them to help steer. The river depth seemed to be very irregular. One minute it would be too deep for Gerald to touch bottom, the next they would be maneuvering it off an outcropping of exposed rocks. The first ten minutes was a learning experience. The three of them getting used to the water current that kept spinning the makeshift raft in lazy circles. All attempts to actually guide the craft seem to have a negligible effect on direction. After a while, they just gave up and went with the flow.
Gerald climbed mostly out of the water and onto one of the exposed drums. They were passing through lightly developed residential areas on both sides. The tall pine trees regularly giving way to manicured lawns sweeping down to the water's edge. “Keep an eye out for kayaks or canoes we could take.”
Steve had completely forgotten about that. Like JD, he was simply enjoying the ride. The three of them began to search the banks in earnest, although the houses and development were sparser here. “What’s that?”
The men looked to where JD was pointing down the river a few hundred yards.
“Not sure,” said Gerald. A line of something seemed to span the entire river. “Maybe it’s the marker for the state line or something. Could be fishing nets even.”
As they got closer and passed the objects, they could see it was just a line of white buoys. The river here had to be nearly a quarter mile across. On one side they could see a large brick building, maybe an old mill of some type. “You guys hear that?”
Steve turned his head in the direction Gerald was looking and heard something. The sound was unmistakable. It was a waterfall. “Paddle, JD, paddle!”
The boy looked panicked. “Which way?” he yelled back.
Steve understood now, the waterfall spanned the entire river. It was massive. Gerald was back in the water kicking and pulling the raft backward away from the falls. As they neared the precipice, it looked down at a thirty-foot drop to the rocky riverbed below. The current here was not swift, but trying to guide or even slow the heavy raft was proving impossible. They watched in horror as the raft continued its march toward the precipice. JD and Steve were paddling furiously as Gerald fought the current trying to swim backward with the raft in tow.
The front edge of the raft nosed over the edge as Steve roughly grabbed for JD and pulled him toward the back. He no longer saw or heard Gerald, but the raft slowly ground to a halt on what appeared to be a rock ledge just beneath the water.
“Get off the raft, try and swim to the shore.”
It was Gerald’s voice, but Steve still didn’t see the
man. Looking down through the palettes he could just make out his upper body and head between the barrels under the raft. He was using his legs wedged against the top of the old dam to hold the raft from going over.
JD and Steve hurried off the platform and were able to stand on the edge of the dam. The current wasn’t strong enough to push them over, but it was still unnerving. The river just disappeared over the ledge inches away. The jagged boulders jutting from the water below would have been the end of the short journey for the trio. He reached back to try and help Gerald steady the raft just as the rear tipped up and began sliding over the top. He watched as the raft sailed over the edge with Gerald still holding on underneath.
29
Her hand trembled slightly as she lay the envelope down and stared out the window. The message was clear, but she still shuddered in disbelief. She was ambitious, craved power in fact, but this . . . this was nearly too much. The CME event had decimated the U.S. government, and many of the top people in the administration were missing or dead. As the sitting secretary of transportation, she would have been well down the list for potential successors to the presidency. What was it? Twelfth or thirteenth? she thought. So little of the cabinet was left that she had been pretty sure she was up to fourth or fifth. After confirming earlier in the day that the downed jet was carrying the VP, she may even be the third surviving person in line for the office. Not that it mattered, she knew now what the future held for her.
Madelyn began picking at the sheer, white nail polish on her slender fingers. It was a nervous habit, years in the making. She prided herself on being perfect. In forty-five minutes, the tiny bubble in the finish on one nail had caused her to scrape polish completely off several fingers. “Shit,” she said to no one. She knew it was a weakness to worry about her nails or her appearance. Hell, the world was coming to an end, but she continued to scrape. Tiny flakes of pearlescent white fluttered down to the rich, dark carpet below. She liked the color, what was it? Moon Shadow or Luna Sea or something like that. Lunacy, that was what all of this was, and she was right in the middle of it.