Catalyst

by JK Franks

  They paddled back to the island where Gerald was finishing tying down the last bundle on his canoe. The man still moved wobbly and favored one side but was not complaining. “Load up, man. We are shipping out.” The older man grinned as he pushed his larger boat off the bank and into the muddy water.

  37

  They struggled over the next ancient dam—the one tagged as “Crowhop” on the map. Steve thought there had to be a story with that name but forgot about it as they beached the boats and portaged around the falls. He and JD helped carry Gerald’s canoe down as the older man was on light duty. Steve thought Gerald was still a bit wobbly and weak, but, Damn, the man wouldn’t slow down.

  Soon the river began branching into smaller and smaller tributaries. It became difficult to know if they chose the right path or to keep up with exactly where they were in relation to the map. The buildings had disappeared behind them, and for miles, they saw nothing but forest and marshland. The current was gentle, and the three found themselves relaxing for the first time in weeks. JD was uncharacteristically chatty. Getting the nagging secret out about his parents being gone seemed to unleash the boy's social side.

  “Mr. Steve?”

  “JD, you don’t have to call me that. Just Steve or Porter or chief or ‘hey you’, I don’t care, but the mister isn’t needed. That’s for old folks . . . like him.” He motioned with his thumb toward Gerald who answered with an amused huff.

  “Sorry, I was just wondering, do you think I’ll have to go back to school this fall? I mean, will they be open?”

  Steve thought about it. He wasn’t even sure what day it was. Must be early September by now, and most schools around here would have already had classes. Stores would hold the back-to-school sales, Friday night football games. It shouldn’t have surprised him that this was on the boy’s mind, but it did. The mundane, the ordinary . . . how hard it was to leave it behind. He kept thinking about work and his business. School would have been the big thing in a child’s life. “Kid . . . I think you are going to get a break this year—in fact, your summer holiday may last a long time.” JD grinned. He didn’t seem to mind that at all.

  Gerald paddled up beside him, “Hey, Chief.”

  Steve caught the man grinning. “Yeah?” He was clearly feeling better. Something had changed between them. Perhaps it was mutual respect. Steve wasn’t sure, but he found himself hoping that was the case. Gerald was the most important member of this group by far, but maybe he had sort of proven some value to the man—he hadn’t let him die, at least.

  The older man paddled sporadically as he talked. “Tell me again about what the girl said . . . about a new president.”

  Steve had relayed it all to him back at the fish camp, but the man apparently thought he had misheard some of it in his diminished condition. Steve sighed and went through it all again, everything he could think of Janice saying. They had tried the little radio a few times, but apparently, the river valley blocked them from hearing any broadcasts.

  Gerald mulled it all over in silence for several minutes. Steve knew that mind was working; he wasn’t particularly sure he cared that it was on this topic. Politics had never been much more than a casual interest to him before the CME. Now it seemed completely pointless. As Janice had said, it was not the most important news anymore. “It just seems odd.”

  Steve looked over at him, “How do you mean?”

  “She said. Your pregnant friend . . . she said a secretary had taken over as president?”

  “Yeah.”

  Gerald continued, “I assume that would mean a cabinet member. The Twenty-Fifth Amendment covers succession. To be honest, it is not all that clear on a lot of things, but cabinet members are pretty far down the list.”

  Steve navigated his kayak around the roots of a downed tree. “How can the constitutional amendment on who can become president be unclear?”

  Gerald just shrugged. “It just is. Hard for them to cover every possibility. After the vice-president, it goes to the House speaker, the Senate president pro tem, and then to the cabinet in a rather obscure order. Also. . . no one is actually sure any of that is actually legal . . . I mean constitutionally legal. Members of the legislature are not actually supposed to be able to serve in the executive branch.” He stared off into the cloudless sky for several minutes pondering the point. “I wonder how much of our federal government is still left? You have to assume the president, VP, top members of Congress are all gone. It must be absolute chaos.”

  “It’s chaos everywhere, my friend. Washington has just always had a head start on the rest of us.”

  “Point taken,” Gerald said. “Just when we need strong leadership, they put someone completely untested into the Oval Office. Probably one of the former president’s old cronies who doesn't know shit and will have his hands tied for years as the courts try to validate his authority.”

  Steve heard his stomach rumbling as he watched JD go around a bend ahead. In a low voice he said, “Leighton, I don’t think this country will have years. It has gone to hell in less than a month. Whoever is in DC will be ruling over a mass cemetery if something doesn’t change.”

  Just then they heard the boy shouting from up ahead. Both men picked up the pace fearing what they would find.

  They paddled into the shoals of the river where JD had beached his kayak. Both men eased up gingerly from the hard seats. The four hours of paddling had made them ache all over. JD’s enthusiastic gestures got them moving quickly. Gerald reached him first. “Ok, kid, what’s got you—” He stopped in his tracks. “No way!”

  Incredibly they all were staring at one of the escaped drums of supplies. With all the twists and turns of the river and the myriad of splitting into smaller streams finding one of the lost drums was inconceivable. “Nice find, JD.” Steve patted him on the shoulder as he waded into the undergrowth to retrieve the rusting blue cylinder.

  “Please be food, please be food,” JD began chanting. While they had managed to make their rations last, the food lately had not been great. They were down to emergency supplies. Gerald had estimated that wouldn’t last more than four days, maybe six, but only if they cut their intake down to a bare minimum. As long as they were on the water, they felt confident with getting fish, frogs or turtles, but the plan was to get off the river in the next few days and head east.

  The drum’s lid clamp was clogged with mud and rust, but all of them took turns loosening it, and finally, Steve managed to get it off. All three looked into the barrel expectantly, each of them let out a groan. The drum held nothing but spare clothes, empty knapsacks, some tools and a few plastic tarps still in their wrappers. JD let out an exasperated yell and kicked a rock into the water. Gerald was smiling and began removing the clothes. He divided them up, so each person could carry a bundle.

  “Jackpot!” Reaching deep into the bottom he pulled out a stack of canned meat tins. “Tuna fish, of course.” Then some sealed desert cakes. “I thought I remembered putting these in this one.” JD’s eyes lit up seeing the familiar packaging with the little girl on the box.

  “Oatmeal cookies. Yes!” he pulled his arm down in a sign of triumph. It wasn’t much, but it brightened their spirits. They split one of the tins of tuna, and each took a cookie before continuing on. They all doubted they would spot any of the other drums. At least they had a change of clothes and some shelter for the night.

  By late afternoon, the river began splitting and narrowing again, and they could see the trees opening up. “Coming up on the first of the lakes,” Gerald said.

  “Good, I’m beat. How far do you want to go before stopping?” Steve asked.

  Gerald looked uncertain, “Not sure, depends on how developed the shoreline is. Probably best we avoid people for now, if what you saw back at the hospital is any indication of how the rest of the world is. Well . . . think I’m fine being anti-social. According to the map, both sides are only sparsely developed, but the Georgia side is a little more direct to the dam. Let’s go to th
e left and scout the eastern shore for a good campsite.

  It took until nearly dark to find an area that was remote enough to feel safe. A copse of trees near the shore with a large fenced pasture behind it gave them some sense of security. “We should be able to see anyone approaching at least,” JD said. They were all exhausted and had a cold camp before going to sleep.

  Several hours later a booming retort tore through the dark night. “What the fuck?” Gerald was up in an instant looking around. The others groggily came awake just as another flash and boom sounded. Then the rain started to fall. A thunderstorm, how lovely, Steve thought. Then he realized—they were no longer alone.

  38

  The three of them stared into the darkness feeling more than seeing the shapes. “Wh . . . what is that?” JD whispered.

  “It’s a herd of cows. They must be looking for shelter,” Gerald said calmly. “Just don’t make any sudden moves. They aren’t dangerous unless they get excited. You don’t want one running over you.” The storm began with the pattering of raindrops building up to a crescendo as the deluge reached its full force. Lightning streaked and forked across the sky, frightening both man and beast.

  Steve and JD had taken shelter under one of the blue tarps, and slowly they handed another to Gerald. “Where should we go, back to the lake?”

  The older man shook his head, then realized they couldn’t see that. “No, lightning and water are much worse than cows. Standing here under these trees isn’t smart either.” The sounds of the storm made it nearly impossible to hear, but he motioned for the other two to follow. Steve began grabbing up the few supplies they had brought up from the boats. “Leave it,” Gerald yelled.

  They followed Gerald’s billowing blue tarp out into the field until he dropped down in a low spot. They were well away from the cows and the trees. They huddled together trying to keep the rain out of the makeshift shelter. “Are we hiding from the cows or the lightning?” JD asked. Steve thought he knew the answer, but was glad the kid asked anyway.

  Gerald had been watching the scene outside through a small opening. “The lightning. Cows are not all that bright. They don’t get hit by lightning often, but when they do, it’s often like this. They will huddle to get shelter from the rain under trees, and when lightning hits the trees, it may kill a bunch of ‘em.”

  As if on cue a powerful arc hit one of the pines like incoming artillery. Several of the cows ran in the other direction, but the others just stayed where they were. The scene repeated over and over as the storm raged on. “Our camp is toast by now,” Steve muttered.

  The others nodded. “Just hope the boats are still there in the morning.” They had pulled them pretty far up on shore, but Gerald was right. If they lost those, their journey south would be a lot slower. The lightning eased off after a half hour or so, but the storm kept up for much of the night. Rivers of water and mud washed through the depression they were lying in. Sleep was impossible, and trying to keep up a conversation was pointless with the staccato of rain pelting the plastic tarps. It was one of the most miserable nights Steve had ever endured. He imagined it was for his fellow travelers as well.

  No matter how much he willed himself not to, his mind kept going to the familiar, he had always loved rainy nights. Sitting in his den with a good book or maybe even a drink. In colder weather, a fire in the big stone fireplace would be crackling. No television or music playing, nothing to break the spell. He would just sit and listen to the rain coming down outside, knowing he was going to sleep soundly that night. Now he lay shivering in the mud with two strangers, praying they didn’t get trampled by a stampede of cows or struck by lightning. Yep, the old life was definitely gone, he just had to find a way to erase the memories of it.

  The lake they were on was remarkably undeveloped. It was narrow enough to see both sides most of the time, so they could hug the opposite side whenever they saw houses or the occasional marina. Steve and JD now shared the double kayak, and Gerald was in the other. A tree limb had come down in the storm and punctured the kayak the boy had been using. The cows had also destroyed everything left at the campsite. Luckily, there was not much in the way of supplies there. They had lost the river map, which was disappointing. They knew they had a series of dams coming up, and somewhere ahead was Columbus, one of the largest cities in Georgia.

  They were planning to be off the river before reaching the city, but without the map, it was more of a guess now. The next day they portaged the boats around an older hydroelectric dam. The river on the far side seemed wide for just a river, and calm. Steve thought that it, too, must have a dam, but neither of them could remember for sure; nor where it might be. They camped again in deep forest on the river’s edge.

  “I’ve been thinking . . . ” Steve resisted the urge to make a smart-ass comment, so Gerald continued: “Without power to operate the floodgates on the dams, these reservoir lakes are just going to keep filling until they overflow.”

  “Wouldn’t they have spillways open to prevent that?”

  “I dunno . . . maybe. Not sure they will help. If one dam upstream fails, then all of ‘em could. You saw how high the water was on that last one. I don’t think it was always that way. The storm dumped a lot more water into that reservoir. Even spillways will get clogged with fallen trees and debris if they aren’t maintained. How long can that go on before something bad happens?”

  “Wow, thanks, Leighton, for cheering us up with all your optimism. You are just a beacon of dark, aren’t you?”

  Gerald patted Steve as he pulled the plastic bag with the small radio out of his pack. “Just doing my part, Porter. Need my fellow travelers to be ready for anything.”

  They all gave a nervous chuckle as he powered the little radio on and began spinning the dial. On the first pass, all they heard was varying levels of static. Gerald then checked a series of specific frequencies he seemed to have memorized. On one of these, they could faintly hear a woman’s monotone voice repeating a random series of numbers. Gerald got a puzzled look on his face, and Steve was about to ask what the numbers were, but the broadcast faded, and he went to another channel.

  Gerald didn’t want to run the batteries down so was limiting himself to how long to keep the little unit on. This had been the first night in weeks they had heard anyone transmitting. Just as he was about to call it quits, he stumbled across another very faint broadcast. The white noise nearly drowned out the man’s voice, but he could just hear it if he used small earbuds that were packed with the radio.

  Steve watched as his friend listened intently to whatever the conversation was. He would have never guessed that his desire for information could be nearly as strong as the need for food. Living in this vacuum, purposefully out of contact with people, felt unbelievably isolating. His life and his business had all been about people. He enjoyed the social interaction, even the casual banter, between acquaintances. Now he lived in a world that was mostly silent. The noise of daily life he’d always taken for granted was now nothing more than a muted breeze blowing over a lazy river.

  Gerald suddenly grabbed a pencil stub and the notebook from his pack and began writing. Finishing, he removed the white earbuds and turned off the radio. “Whoa . . . man, we gotta talk.” His voice left no doubt that something serious was up.

  39

  “In short, the world has gone to shit.”

  “No, duh!” said JD.

  “Ditto,” echoed Steve.

  “No, worse . . . much worse,” Gerald sighed.

  Steve leaned up against a tree. “Who were you listening to?”

  “Just a guy, says he’s a patriot. Wouldn’t give a real name, not even his official call sign. Said he was worried about ‘them’ triangulating his location. Probably just some prepper, but he’s got a good radio rig and must scan for radio signals every night. He seems to know a lot that is going on.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, he said something is going on in Tallahassee, at the college there. He a
lso said our new president has issued several emergency orders limiting travel, hoarding of supplies and temporarily outlawing firearms.”

  Steve looked shocked. “He can’t do that, it’s unconstitutional.”

  “She.”

  “Huh?” Steve said confused.

  “She can’t do that. Apparently, we now have our first female president.” Gerald paused and let that sink in. “People are also being ‘encouraged’ to vacate the larger cities for the aid camps.” He did the air quotes thing while saying encouraged. “The camps are being run by TSA, FEMA and Homeland personnel as well as another para-military group that no one seems to know much of anything about. He thinks they may be a mercenary army. In short, America is turning into a police state.”

  “So that camp we saw was one of those—an aid camp?”

  Gerald shrugged. “I suppose. He said they were set up along major travel routes and near significant population centers. From what he is hearing, the larger cities have fallen into anarchy: food has mostly run out, clean water is scarce, medical care is gone. Those people that relied on handouts to survive have nothing. Judges made the prisons release all the inmates since they couldn’t feed ‘em. No standing police force remains anywhere, so every gang member, drug dealer, and petty thief is now able to operate without much fear of consequences.”

  “My God,” Steve said in disbelief. He stared over at JD, wondering how much of this the young boy understood. “But still, why would anyone voluntarily go into one of those camps? They look like prison camps—hell, they are.”