by Stalter, D
Allison winced. “Yeah. I’ve heard. Thanks. I’ll go straight home.”
She turned north at the top of the ramp. A handful of men, women and children shuffled across the bridge towards the Days Inn. Their faces reflected disbelief. A woman carrying a small child cried as she limped towards the motel.
This happened in five hours? Impossible! Allison thought.
Day 1 Riley Finds Wilson
Riley and Will made their way out of the neighborhood and headed north. Once out of the small city, they turned west onto a county road. Three miles from the city, they passed a group of grain bins. Three beat up dirty pickup trucks were parked outside and for middle-aged men in overalls watched as they drove by. One man separated himself from the rest to go to the back of one of the trucks. He reached in to the bed.
Riley twisted the throttle, not wanting to hang around to see what the man was getting. Two miles further down the road Will road up next to Riley and yelled, “For crying out loud! Was he getting a gun?”
Riley shook his head. “I don’t know. I wasn’t going to hang around and find out.”
There was a light breeze, but the noise of the motorcycles was the only sound for miles. When they approached Highway 26 Riley pulled to the edge of the road, stopped, and pulled out his map. “Kasbeer should be just a couple miles north. I don’t think it’s a very big town. If I remember right it used to have one tavern and a post office. Probably 30 or 40 houses.”
There was a steady stream of southbound traffic, but very few cars were heading north. At this time of day Riley thought that the traffic coming from the north was probably people fleeing from Rockford. Although the traffic wasn’t as heavy as they’d seen on the interstate, there were many more cars than there should be on a rural highway this time of day.
Some cars appeared to be running fine. Others jerked and chugged. The faces that stared back at them were wild and full of fear.
Riley folded the map back up and tucked it into his saddlebag. Will held a rifle with his right hand as he tightened the strap holding the remaining weapons.
A well-kept Jeep chugged north. The vehicle lurched and coughed, but it was moving. A woman of about forty leaned over the steering wheel, eyes bugging, lips stretched in a slash across her face.
Will and Riley watched as she passed. Riley raised his eyebrows. “She looks like she’s about to the end of her rope.”
“Geez Louise! One look at your ugly mug and anyone is at the end of their rope. Stop scaring people.”
“Shut up and ride. We have to get my nephew home.”
The town of Kasbeer appeared in the distance. It was a small town, no bigger than a village if that. On the west side of the highway stood several shiny grain bins, the sun reflecting off the silver metal. On the east side of the highway was the town. It appeared to be four streets long and about five streets wide.
Riley had no idea where to find the building Wilson was hiding the boy in. The man at the bar in LaSalle, Rick something, had said Wilson’s sister ran a tattoo shop. Riley turned down the last street remembering that both the bar and the post office had been on this street. He assumed that a tattoo shop might also be nearby.
He was right. Next to the boarded-up bar sat a rundown white house with a wide front porch. Paint flaked off the house. The window next to the front door was boarded up. The door hung crookedly on its hinges. A sign propped against the porch, proclaimed “Sherrie’s Tats.”
Will looked at the house as he propped his bike on its kickstand. “How do you want to play this?”
“You stay here. Just be ready in case things go bad. I don’t trust Wilson.”
“There you go again with that pessimist shit. What could go bad when Wilson’s involved?”
“Just stay frosty, my friend.”
Riley felt for the pistol that was tucked into his waistband at the small of his back. Satisfied that he was ready, he started towards the house. He didn’t reach the front steps before a heavyset bearded man emerged from around the side of the house. His grungy jeans looked as though they hadn’t been washed in months. His bushy beard fell down to his chest, a rubber band turned it into a ponytail. He cradled a rusty shotgun in his arms. Riley wasn’t sure it could even shoot.
“You ain’t taking Benny.”
“Aww, come on Wilson. You know you were supposed to have him back this morning. Denise is worried sick. You didn’t even call. She didn’t know if you’d been in a wreck or if you were just being a jerk.”
“I said, you ain’t taking Benny. Now get on that bike and get the hell out of here.” He wrapped his left hand around the forestock of the shotgun but did not bring the gun up to his shoulder.
Riley shook his head. “I can’t do that. Where is Benny? Let’s have a beer and talk about this.”
“I got a couple extra beers but we got nothing to talk about. Come on back and have one for the road, but Benny is staying here.” He turned and walked through the side yard to the back. Riley nodded at Will and followed Wilson.
When he got to the backyard Wilson was digging in an ice chest. His shotgun was leaned up against a dirty Harley. Pieces of the bike were laid out on a wooden picnic table that had seen better days.
Wilson handed Riley a beer. “Where’s Will?”
Riley shrugged. “Not my day to watch him.”
Wilson walked to the corner of the house and yelled, “Will, get back here where I can keep an eye on you.”
Will appeared around the corner. He took the beer Wilson offered and looked at the parts laid out on the picnic table.
“Rebuilding the carb?” he asked leaning over the parts with interest.
Wilson nodded. “It’s been running kinda rough.” He didn’t seem to notice that Riley had moved away from the table and put distance between himself and Will.
Riley lifted the beer and took a long drink before turning to Wilson. “Where is Benny?”
“He’s inside watching videos. And I told you you ain’t taking him.”
“I don’t have a choice. He’s going home to his mom.”
“Over my dead body.” Wilson reached over and picked up the shotgun.
“Hey,” Riley said, moving far enough away from the picnic table that there was no way that Wilson could bring his gun up and easily take them both out. “It doesn’t have to go like this, Wilson. Just get Benny and let me take him home to his mother. You and Denise can take this to court and settle it legally.”
Wilson brought the shotgun to his shoulder. He started to raise the barrel in Riley’s direction.
“Stop.” The soft, but firm command came from Will. “Think about what you’re doing. There’s no way you can win this.”
He had his gun out and aimed at Wilson’s chest.
Wilson stared at the gun, then shot a glance at Riley who by now also had a gun pointing at Wilson. Wilson’s eyes grew wide. “Hey! That looks like my gun. That is my gun! Did you fuckin rob my house?”
Before Riley could respond there were sounds of screeching tires on the highway, then a loud crash. Wilson spun to face the direction of the crash. “What is with all this traffic? There’s been cars heading towards Princeton all day.”
“You haven’t heard?” Riley asked.
“Heard what?”
“Let’s put these guns down and I’ll tell you what’s going on.”
Wilson glared at Riley, then lowered the shotgun and stepped around his bike to put an obstacle between them. “Tell me.”
“The news is saying that there will be a solar flare today.”
“Solar flare? Is that when everything stops working? Like cars and computers?”
“Well, they say that anything electronic could be affected. Cars have a lot of electronics and computers too. Cellphones, radios, pretty much everything we use every day. My bike is old enough that it shouldn’t be affected. So is Will’s here. And yours too. Either it has already happened or something else happened. But, I’m guessing a lot of people are going to be hurtin
g.”
“So what’s with the traffic?”
“I’m assuming most of that is traffic leaving Rockford. The news also said that Muslim terrorists are hiding in the U.S. and are planning on using the confusion to strike in large cities.”
Wilson looked from Riley to Will. “Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack. And, I’d really like to get my nephew back to his mom before the shit really hits the fan, so how about you go get Benny?”
“No. He stays with me. I know Denise is your sister, but she can be a real bitch. First, she takes me to court and has them raise my child support payments. Then she finds excuses for Benny to be busy on the weekends that I’m supposed to have him. This weekend was the first time I’ve had him in two months. That ain’t right. The only reason I got him this weekend is because she’s got a new boyfriend and wanted to spend the weekend in Chicago. It won’t hurt Benny to spend a few extra days with his old man.”
“Think about it, Wilson. The shit is hitting the fan. Benny will be safer with me than with you.”
“Bullshit! I’m his dad. I can keep him safe.”
“Here? How?”
“With this.” Wilson held the shotgun up.
“That thing looks like it will fall apart the first time you shoot it. And do you even have any shells for it?”
“I got plenty more guns and ammo at home.”
“How ya going to get Benny there safely? Look at this traffic. Look at the way these people are driving. They are all going the same way you need to go.” Riley glanced at the window and saw Benny’s face staring down. “Wilson, I promise. Let me take Benny home today and keep him safe. When this is all over, I will make sure that Denise walks the line. If she doesn’t let you take him on the weekends you are supposed to have him, I will stand with you. I promise.”
“No! He’s staying here. Sherrie can watch him while I run back to LaSalle and get my gear. Did you leave me any gear or did you steal everything?” He eyed the pistol in Riley’s hand. “That is my gun, right?”
“Yeah. It’s yours. But we only took a couple. And ammo for them. You’ve still got more than you need back home.”
Wilson stepped towards the back door of the house. “Sherrie!” he yelled. “Put Benny back in front of the TV and come out here.”
Protests could be heard coming from the boy before the back door opened and a tall woman with straight black hair stepped out to the steps. She wore a plaid shirt over a tight t-shirt that clung to her curves. The t-shirt was tucked into snug jeans. She was barefoot. “The power just went out. What’s going on, Ray?”
“You remember Riley?” he asked, nodding his head in Riley’s direction.
“Yeah, what’s he doing with my gun?”
Riley’s eyes widened. “Your gun?”
“Most the guns at Ray’s place are mine. I had a little trouble with neighborhood kids breaking in so I keep most of them at his place. What are you doing with it?”
“I only borrowed it. I’ll give it back when I’m done.”
“Done doing what?”
“Tell her what you told me.” Wilson stepped to the picnic table and lowered himself onto the seat. He waved his hand in a circle, telling Riley to get on with it.
Riley repeated what he had already told Wilson. “Take a look at the highway. Bumper to bumper traffic.” His voice faded off as he stared toward the highway two blocks away. A fight had broken out between two small groups standing near the wrecked vehicles. One man was holding another back. On the ground lay an old man. An old woman knelt next to him covering his head to protect him from the aggressor.
“Stay here.” He crossed the back yards to the highway, his Taurus 9mm still in his hand.
When he got to the ditch, he stopped, waiting for the two groups of fighters to notice him. Someone honked their horn. An old woman looked up from where her man lay on the road. Her eyes looked into Riley’s. Riley saw desperation and fear. The aggressor turned away from the man holding him back. When he saw Riley, he took a step forward, then stopped and bellowed, “What are you looking at? You want a piece of this?”
He muttered something at his companion and then climbed into the driver’s seat of a four door, red pickup truck. He gunned the engine a couple of times before dropping it into drive and spinning his tires as he took off to the south narrowly missing the old man and woman he’d left in the middle of the road. He flipped Riley the bird as he drove by. Riley noticed that his companion was holding his head in his hands as if embarrassed by his friend’s behavior.
Traffic picked up speed. The old man still had not moved from the middle of the road. His wife stood next to him trying to slow traffic down.
Riley shook his head and walked out to the center of the road where he held the gun in the air. Tires screeched. Traffic stopped once again. Riley lifted the old man and carried him to the side of the road before setting him down in the grass.
“Where is your vehicle?” he asked the woman, who had dropped to the ground to whisper to her husband.
“My nephew just drove off in it.”
“That was your nephew who was beating your husband?”
She nodded. “My sister’s kid, Reggie. He showed up at our house about 9:00 this morning saying that the Muslims were starting a war and he needed to get home to St. Louis. He was acting strange. Almost paranoid. He demanded our truck. Harold said ‘no,’ but that just agitated Reggie, so Harold said that we would drive him to St. Louis. It’s only a five-hour drive from Rockford.”
“We left Rockford and tried to get on the Interstate, but the traffic was horrible. We couldn’t even get through the tangle of cars trying to get on the Interstate, so Harold got on Highway 26. Reggie was angry. He said it would take forever if we didn’t take the Interstate.”
Riley knelt next to the old man. His breathing was more even now and color was coming back to his face. He coughed. Riley helped him into a sitting position and then put his arm under the man’s and helped him stand.
“You took the right route,” Riley said. “We came south from Rockford on the Interstate. If we hadn’t had bikes, we would still be sitting in that traffic. My friend lives just over there,” he said pointing to Wilson’s sister’s house. “I can offer you a cold glass of water and then you can figure out how to get back home.”
Day 1 - Wilson leaves Kasbeer
Riley slid his arm under the old man’s shoulder and supported him while they slowly walked the two blocks back to Sherrie’s house. Ten-year-old Benny sat on the back steps while Sherrie hung clothes on the clothesline strung between the house and the garage. She nodded towards the house. “They’re in there watching the news.”
Riley helped the old man sink onto the bench of the picnic table. His wife slid in next to him and wrapped her arm around his back.
A small Honda generator was sitting on the back step. It was surprisingly quiet. Will and Wilson sat at the kitchen table facing a flat screen TV standing on the counter. A CNN reporter was positioned on an overpass looking down at an Interstate. Traffic was at a standstill. Horns blared. The camera zoomed in on a group of people fighting between the cars.
With his left hand cupped over his left ear, he was shouting into the microphone. “Traffic has been at a standstill for over an hour. As you can see behind me, tempers are getting short and there seems to be no end in sight to the hordes of people attempting to escape the city before the potential destruction of the coming solar flare.”
The desk reporter nodded. “I’m sure there are more roads than this that are jammed with all the people fleeing our cities. What advice can we give to our viewers?”
“The best advice I can give would be to stay home. Make sure you have enough food for a few days because if this solar flare does any damage it will be at least a few days for things to get back to normal. I don’t believe there will be any problems, but if there are, it shouldn’t take long to get back in the groove.”
“Yes,” the desk reporter agreed.
“It certainly will be safer to stay home. Traffic isn’t moving and there have been reports of some violence. Just stay home and let this blow over.”
Wilson’s lip curved into a snarl. “They have no idea what they are talking about. Nothing’s going to happen. All they are doing is riling people up and making them panic. Stupid shit. Stupid people.”
“Hey,” Riley spoke up. “Where does Sherrie keep her glassware? I got an old man and his wife out at the picnic table. He just got beat up out on the highway. I’d like to get him fixed up before he leaves.”
Wilson waved his hand towards the far wall.
Riley filled two glasses with cold water and glanced over at Will. Will’s head was tilted back, his eyes half closed, but Riley recognized the look on Will’s face. He’d seen it many times when they’d gone up against rivals. It simply meant “I’m ready when you are.”
Riley gave a slight shake of his head. He didn’t need for Wilson to realize they were communicating right under his ugly nose. He knocked the handle of the screen door with his elbow and carefully made his way down the steps handing a glass to the old man and his wife.
“We have no way to get you back to Rockford. The phone lines were jammed the last time we checked, but I can check again.” He dug his phone out of the pouch on his hip. He scrolled to his sister’s number and tapped the phone. It didn’t ring.
Ending the attempt to call, he turned back to the old man. “I’m sorry. I was able to send a text earlier, but I guess the phone lines are jammed by so many people trying to call friends and loved ones. Is there someone I can text for you?”
The old man shook his head. “We never kept up with the times. We don’t even own cellphones”.
The old woman held her finger in the air. “Wait! Our neighbors use cellphones. They are always texting people.”
“Do you know their number?”
She closed her eyes and recited a number. Riley quickly typed the number in and then started a short text. “What are your names?”