“Didn’t you call this Hatfield and McCoy country?”
“I did. But that may not be all bad. It’s true mountain people are suspicious of strangers. Then, many have the same general feeling for the US government.”
“Okay, two days and we move on.”
Ray smiled. He’d be ready tomorrow, maybe this afternoon. But two more nights camping would be all right. The truth was, he suspected this was a peaceful interlude on a long troubled road. When their money ran out, life was going to get tough, fast.
“Us together, it’s been working out,” Ray said. “Once we leave here, things can happen. You’ve seen that. I think this is the point when I ask, do you trust me?”
Cheryl looked at him coldly. “I don’t like where that question leads.”
“I don’t like asking it. I shouldn’t have to. If we’d known each other longer it would never come up. Yesterday you were ready to leave. You were upfront about it, so that’s cool. We need to look out for what’s good for ourselves. When we’re travelling together, we need to look out for each other, too.”
She nodded. “So what’s your point?”
“We need a few things for the trip. I want to go into Chelyan to get them.”
“And?”
“Alone.”
“Why?”
“We could pack everything on the bike and both go. We could leave our gear here and both go. You could go and I could watch the camp. Or the other way around. How would you do it?”
“Both go and leave the camp.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do.”
“But it’s not what you’d do.”
“No. Two jobs two people. Think wash the dishes; take out the garbage.”
“You’re still angry about me talking to Alton.”
“If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have known where that roadblock was.”
“Two jobs, two people, and you came looking for me.”
“I thought something might have happened. And I didn’t interfere.”
“You go to town.”
“No. We’ll both go.”
* * *
They bought a folding stove and three cans of Sterno fuel, then canned beans, ravioli, and beef stew. Ray went into a pawn shop while Cheryl watched the bike. For a hundred dollars, he bought a .38 pistol with an ankle holster and a box of ammunition. It was a lot of money just then, but a necessary expense. For five dollars more, he bought a portable radio.
Ray strapped the gun beneath his jeans and stepped outside. Cheryl stood by the bike, frowning at her phone. She handed it to him and he read the message from Bank of America:
Thank you for your recent payment. Because of unsettled conditions in the financial markets, we are forced to modify the credit line we have extended you. Effective immediately, your credit limit is changed to $200. We apologize for the inconvenience and hope you understand these temporary measures.
Ray handed back the phone. “It’s two hundred more than we had.”
“I can pay off the balance and recycle it. But we can’t buy anything big.”
“Let’s try it out at the gas pump. We need to stay topped off.”
Chapter 17
Karla sat through the morning news and cringed. Dolores Hart had issued an emergency order declaring food hoarding illegal. One month’s food per household occupant was allowed. The rest was subject to seizure. Those holding excess quantities were instructed to turn them over to their local government for a cash payment. Karla laughed. She wasn’t about to turn her food over. She doubted anyone who was serious about surviving would.
On the way to work she thought more about security, bars for her windows and doors like they had in Chicago. She’d never seen them for sale at Menards. She wondered who sold them in Cedar Rapids, and if she should have them installed. Maybe that just invited trouble, like a sign you had something to protect. She’d try to find something less obtrusive.
Karla’s office was practically deserted—her and three others. The assembly floor was equally empty, only a single team working on F35 flight deck projection displays. She checked their the progress and returned to her cubicle.
“Lockheed wants their avionics.” Michael Krager stood in the cubicle opening. “But they don’t want to pay. They intend to deliver ten aircraft and take an IOU.”
“What are we going to do?” Karla asked.
“Give them what they want, I’d guess. That’s not my decision. But if we don’t, the Air Force is liable to nationalize us.”
“Can they do that?”
“Not legally. Though that doesn’t seem to be an issue any longer.”
“We’ll have two ready by Wednesday.”
“And the rest?”
“A couple weeks. Do you want them to slow down?”
Michael said, “I’ll let you know.”
Karla spun in her chair and watched him walk away. Then she pulled out her list. Something besides Christian Bonner’s attitude bugged her, though she couldn’t put a finger on what it was. Meanwhile, she had the two women—Gloria Craddock and Patty Dunn—to sort out.
* * *
Karla went home first, had a snack, then headed into the city, giving Gloria time to get home if she had a day job. Her house was a small, tidy ranch two blocks north of Mt. Vernon Road. She had a doorbell but Karla knocked.
A teenage girl peeked out through a barely opened door. She was blond and thin and sported a nose ring.
“I’d like to speak with Gloria Craddock,” Karla said. “Is she home?”
The girl shut the door without answering.
It was reopened two minutes later by a thirtyish woman, braless under an aqua, cotton top. Karla introduced herself. The woman frowned, but she didn’t slam the door.
“I’m trying to find Roger Becker.” Karla continued. “He’s disappeared with my daughter. I’m contacting everyone whoever knew him.”
The woman stepped out and shut the door behind her. “I’m Gloria Montrose, now. I haven’t seen Roger in more than a year.”
“Do you have any idea where he might go to hide? Someplace he talked about a lot?”
“I’d think you’d know him better than me.”
“I’ve tried everywhere I know. Believe me, I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t run out of places to look.”
“It wasn’t what you think. We had coffee, lunch a few times.”
“You don’t need to explain. I’m not angry. I only want Jessie back.”
“I don’t see how I can help you.”
A man, tall with a ruddy face stood behind the glass storm door.
“Did he ever mention Denver? Someone he knew there, maybe?”
The man opened the door and stepped out beside Gloria. She looked up at him, then shook her head. “I don’t remember that, no.” Her face drew in. Karla could see a thought emerging. “Boulder. He mentioned going there.”
“Do you remember when?”
“No. Maybe two years ago.”
“Thanks, you’ve been a big help.” Karla gave her a card with her cell number and walked away.
Boulder was something to chase down. She’d try to find out why Roger had gone there. After that, all she had left was Patty.
Chapter 18
Ray stepped into the Go Mart, saw bread, then peanut butter, and took them to the counter. The round young woman beside the register looked up from a newspaper and eyed him a little strangely. Ray guessed it was his winter coat.
“What’s the news?” Ray asked.
“Worlds coming to an end. Don’t know why I’m even here.”
“Doesn’t seem to be quite that bad,” Ray said.
The woman closed the paper and showed him the Charleston Gazette headline: NUCLEAR ARMAGEDDON. Ray focused on the second line: War Spreads in Asia.
“See.”
Ray was taken aback. Events had deteriorated sharply from what they’d seen on TV the morning before “You have anot
her paper?” he asked.
She pointed to a rack by the door. He paid for one and picked it up on the way out.
Cheryl sat outside on a wooden bench soaking up the sun. Ray showed her the paper and she gasped. He sat and handed her a section.
Ray said, “Ten countries have been nuked so far. Sick and dead in the hundreds of millions.”
“They’re cracking down on movement out of the northeast,” Cheryl said. “Closing interstates. All people from the “Affected Zone” are banned from travel. Residents who’ve left by ground transportation are required to report to Army decontamination centers. There’s a phone number to locate the nearest one.”
“Does it mention penalties for non-compliance?”
Cheryl skimmed down. “Not that I see. We’re just supposed to go.” She read a bit more. “Since we’re not, I guess we better stop telling people where we’re from.”
“That would be smart.” Ray turned back to the paper. “They’ve banned food hoarding, too. For all the good that will do.”
* * *
Cheryl unpacked supplies while Ray hid the Honda. Low, gray clouds had moved in and the air was distinctly colder. They sat outside the tent, bundled up, a blanket covering them.
“I think we ought to leave tomorrow,” Ray said.
“You can’t seem to keep the same plan for more than five minutes.”
“Adaptive tactics.”
“Yeah, right. So why the change? What do think is really going on?”
“The economy is about to fall apart.”
“Demand side imbalance?”
Ray laughed. “If that means people don’t have enough money to buy what they need, I’d agree. Millions have got to be out of work. The financial system is damaged. The Feds are going to be hard pressed to pay anything. It’s a cycle that can only go down.”
“I didn’t have any case studies like this. But a shortage of money equals a reduction in purchasing, which leads to more layoffs, and on and on. Food’s already a problem or they wouldn’t be writing laws on hoarding. This sounds like what my professor called a market dislocation. In an open economy, they are supposed to self-correct, in time.”
“I’m not sure I would count on that happening,” Ray said. “Picture us in a few months, when we run out of money. Then multiply it by say ten, twenty, maybe fifty million.”
“By then . . .”
“There aren’t going to be many jobs. Getting by will come down to begging, stealing, or living off the land.”
“So why will it be better in Tennessee?”
“For one, we won’t freeze to death. And there’s safety in numbers.”
“Safety from who?” Cheryl asked.
“People without food will take whatever they find. Can you imagine groups of thousands working their way through a town? Once they get armed, and they will, it would take the Army to stop them.”
“How many friends do you have in Tennessee?”
“Enough to dissuade a mob, I hope.”
Chapter 19
Karla watched the evening news. Twenty dead in a standoff at a Texas food distributer as Army troops tried to seize it. Karla felt of a kind with the Texans. She hoped Dolores Hart would get the message that the nation’s food was not hers for the taking.
Dolores Hart had filled several key cabinet posts, when she wasn’t stealing food. Governors had begun to appoint senators and to set up special elections for the House of Representatives. A senate quorum was possible in a week. Because of the required elections, it would be months before the house convened. A location for the new government hadn’t been named.
In an ominous note, the Army had been called in to stop looting by a mob of displaced persons in Hamilton, New York. Colgate University, located there, was in lockdown.
Karla called Brad Tillson for the third time. She thought he might be ignoring her, and he would be justified in doing so after her visit to the real estate office. But this time he answered.
“Hi Karla.”
“Sorry about yesterday. I’m a little out of sorts with Jessie gone. I shouldn’t take it out on you.”
“I understand. I take it you have another request?”
“Just a simple question. Did Roger go to Boulder, Colorado on business?”
A pause. “I think he did. Couple years ago. Why?”
“Do you know who he saw there?”
“No. Not off hand. It was some type of trade show, I think. I don’t remember the details.”
“Would you have the information in your office?”
Brad sighed. “I didn’t go. Roger did.”
“So, there’d be something in his files?”
“Maybe. But I’m not going through them.”
“Would it be a problem if the police did?”
“Don’t threaten me, Karla.”
“I wasn’t. I was just thinking that if you didn’t have time maybe they would. I mean I’ve reported her missing, and I talk to the police every day. I could ask them, if you didn’t mind.”
“Karla, the name of a convention isn’t going to help you find Jessie.”
“He might have met someone there. If I can get a list of attendees, I could make calls.”
“There could be a thousand people at a show.”
“What else do I have to do?”
Brad paused again. “I’ll get you the name of the show. The rest is up to you.”
“Thanks, Brad. I really mean it.”
Chapter 20
Three inches of snow met Ray when he unzipped the tent. And the snow was still falling. He stepped around the rock and did his business. He figured he could get the bike out to the road, but an all day run in the snow would be a soaking, cold one with possibly no good means to dry off and warm up at the end.
He reentered the tent and slipped into the sleeping bag. “We’re not going anywhere today.”
Cheryl rolled over and looked at him.
“Snow. It’ll have to melt before we get out of here.”
“How long will that take?”
“It hasn’t quit, yet.” He reached for his pack. “Maybe I can get the weather on the radio.”
He turned it on, found a Charleston station, and lay back. School closings came first, followed by traffic and local headlines without detail. Then, an announcement that the Governor had closed all roads leading into West Virginia from Pennsylvania, Maryland, and Virginia. I-77 was open, but restricted to residents of Ohio and West Virginia.
“Oh shit,” Ray said.
“It’s only people coming in. We can still leave.”
“Yeah. If other states don’t decide to do the same thing. You can bet Tennessee will. Probably already has. No one wants a surge of outsiders, contaminated or not.”
“One good thing,” Cheryl said. “If the roads are blocked at the state line, then there’s no need for the internal check points. After a day or so, there wouldn’t be anyone to stop.”
“Change their focus, more likely. I’d continue with the radiation checks. That’s the big thing. There’s bound to be more people like us in the state. As long as we’re all out in the woods, we don’t bother anyone. Bringing contaminated cars to town is another matter. They’ll want rid of every last one of those babies.”
“The Honda is clean. So no problem.”
“We think. I’d feel better if we had a West Virginia plate.”
“You have an idea where we can steal one? They’re not exactly on every street corner this time of year.”
“In town they’d be in garages. I’d look for tarps in a country side yard.” Ray unzipped the opening and shook his head. “Not Today.”
* * *
The sun peeked over the hills to the east; the clouds had vanished in the night. The air still carried a bite, but that wouldn’t last the morning, said the radio. Ray and Cheryl had beef stew for breakfast then loaded the Honda to overflowing. They couldn’t come back. Tracks in the s
now would lead anyone to the camp.
They rode slowly on the unplowed roads and reached Chelyan in an hour. At Wal-Mart, they bought oversize rain suits intended for golfers and made garbage bag ponchos for their packs and gear. Then Cheryl spotted it.
“Over there.”
Ray followed her gaze to a thirty foot RV at the far end of the parking lot. A tarp mostly covered an object hung on the back. The partially exposed wheel made that object a small motorcycle.
“Do you think they’re inside?” Cheryl asked, though she had no doubt the owners were.
“Let’s just hope it has a plate.” Ray undid his pack and fished out the screwdriver and pliers he’d bought. “Anyone opens the door, you start this thing. I’ll be right over. If they’ve got a gun, you hit the horn.”
Cheryl swallowed. “Got it. Be careful.”
Ray smiled, touched the gun tucked in his belt and walked to the RV. He cut the rope and slid the tarp clear of the bike’s rear. He gave Cheryl a thumbs up, and went to work with the screwdriver. A car pulled into the lot and turned an aisle short of him. He removed one screw then another, registering movement inside the RV as he pocketed the screws and removed the plate.
Someone was definitely moving, but the curtains remained in place. He took a few seconds to flip the tarp over the bike. Then he turned his back to the RV, slid the plate inside his coat, and stepped away. He counted on Cheryl. He passed an old pickup and an SUV. He heard the motorcycle start, and he cut behind a minivan. He saw Cheryl, now, and she blipped the horn. Ray turned. Fifty feet to his left, a man, gun at his side, moved carefully beside the RV.
Cheryl sat on the Honda and revved the engine. She put the bike in gear and started toward him. Ray only then realized she knew how. He swung on behind her, and she cruised slowly around the building and stopped. They switched places, and he gunned it out of the lot.
Ray turned onto US 60, rode a few miles and stopped outside a Rite Aid. He quickly attached the plate.
“I want to take a ride through the checkpoint, if it’s still there, see what happens. I should be back in half an hour, max.” He slipped his gun and wallet into the backpack and handed it to her.
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