by Keith Taylor
“Sorry, you’re right,” Valerie said, pulling away. “We just need a jump start to get us going again. The alternator’s been on its last legs for a couple of weeks now. In the city we’ve been switching out fresh batteries until we could schedule some time for this one to go to the shop, but when they announced the evacuation I just didn’t think about it. Didn’t remember the batteries were draining down until we stopped for a pee break and I couldn’t get her started again.”
“Will a jump start be enough?” Ramos asked. “If your alternator’s busted, won’t the battery just drain again in a few minutes?”
“I hope not,” Valerie replied. “It’s a bit of a long shot, but if you can give us enough of a jolt to get the big diesel started we might be OK. Once it’s going it doesn’t need power to keep it running. This isn’t like a regular car. I can switch off everything electrical once we’re moving. God willing she should last as far as Truckee.”
“Truckee?” Karen asked.
“Yeah, Truckee.” Valerie looked at her as if she’d just dropped in from the moon. “The new safe zone? What, you guys didn’t get the memo? They moved it out from Auburn when Sacramento got hit.”
“Val,” Ramos interjected, “we didn’t even know it was supposed to be in Auburn. Hell, I don’t even know where Auburn is. We haven’t seen the news since… what, yesterday afternoon? Last time we saw a TV was about an hour before the bomb dropped on San Francisco.”
“Oh, man, seriously? You guys are like… I don’t know, like you’re still on the first season of Breaking Bad while we’re all watching Better Call Saul.” She saw Karen shake her head, confused. “I mean you’re way behind the rest of us. Doesn’t your radio work?”
Ramos shook his head. “No. I mean it works, but it just picks up static on the FM band. I couldn’t get any active stations.”
“Jesus, so you really don’t know what’s been going on? Thank God I have the CB.” She pointed to the cab of the bus. “I can tune in to all sorts of channels with that big ass antenna. We even picked up a couple of military frequencies last night, but they’ve mostly gone dark now.”
“Can you tell us what’s going on?” Karen asked. “We’re flying blind here.”
“I sure can,” Valerie replied, heading towards the back of the bus, “but let’s save story time until we’ve got this thing rolling again. Cesar, can you give me a hand?” She looked over at Karen, still carrying her sleeping daughter in her arms, and turned to one of the passengers hiding in the shade of the bus. “And you,” she said, pointing to a young man, “can you pull the car around to the back? I need it up as close as you can get it. My jump leads are only about six feet long.”
The young man nodded and climbed to his feet. “Keys are in the ignition?” he asked, turning to Karen.
“Yes. Thank you.” Karen shifted Emily to her other shoulder and followed Valerie to the back of the bus. “Hey, where are the rest of your passengers? You didn’t only evacuate with three people, right?”
Valerie shook her head as she hefted the engine cover up onto its stands. “Oh Lord, no. I had a few dozen in the back when we left the city, but most of them didn’t want to chug along at jogging pace while everyone else was breaking the speed limit. I handed a few of them off when we passed an army checkpoint out near Vallejo. Those guys had some seats left in their big troop transport things. Everyone else got out in Vacaville when we stopped for water.”
She smiled at the memory as she wiped the grease from the battery terminals with her sleeve. “It was nice, you know? You kind of expect people to be every man for himself when something like this happens, but folks were lining up to help. We just stopped for a minute to grab some water and about a half dozen pickups pulled up to offer space in the back. Felt like we were all in it together, know what I mean?”
She wiped her oily hands on her shirt and let out a bitter laugh. “It’s changed now, of course. It’s not even been a day and people are already turning mean. You know we had five cars go by in the last few hours? Five, and not a single one of them even tapped the brakes.” She shook her head sadly. “Oh well, at least you guys stopped. Cesar, can you help me pull down these leads?”
Ramos reached up above the open engine bay where Valerie directed him, pulling out a long set of thickly insulated cables.
“OK, you can bring the car around now,” Valerie called out. She waited a few seconds, and then called out again. “Chop chop, it’s hot out here.”
Karen felt her heart sink as she heard the crunch of tires on gravel.
“No,” she muttered, jogging awkwardly around the back of the bus, bouncing Emily in her arms. “No, no, no, no!” She cleared the bus just in time to see wheels spinning in the dust at the side of the road. “No!” she cried, watching the Prius turn back onto the road. It fishtailed for a moment, the tires searching for grip on the asphalt, and then the engine kicked in as the car began to pick up speed.
“What’s happening?” Valerie demanded, concern in her voice.
“They’re leaving!” Karen could barely bring herself to believe what she was seeing. “They’re leaving us behind!”
΅
CHAPTER TWENTY
SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST
JACK PANTED WITH exertion, trailing a dozen steps behind Cathy as she scrambled further up the steep hillside. A thick mulch of fallen pine needles made it tough to take a step forward without his slick-soled Oxfords sending him two slides back, but Cathy had insisted.
She refused to speak until they’d climbed far enough from the parking lot that she was sure nobody down below could hear them, so Jack reluctantly climbed, and it was only when he'd dragged himself another hundred yards uphill of the little blue Parsons’ house that Cathy finally fell to her knees in the shadow of a ponderosa, pulling a pack of Camels from her jacket pocket as if they were precious treasure. Jack suspected this was the real reason she'd wanted to climb higher, but he didn't bother to press the point.
“So,” he gasped, falling gratefully to the ground beside her. “Are you gonna tell me what the hell’s going on, or do I have to guess?”
“Hang on, Jack.” Cathy leaned into the flame from her lighter, struggling to catch the tip of the cigarette with her trembling hands. “I didn’t get a comfortable bed and a nice cooked breakfast like you did,” she said, finally meeting the flame. “Gimme a second to get myself together.”
Jack sighed with frustration as Cathy took a deep pull on the cigarette, exhaling a cloud of smoke along with hours of pent up stress, and while she burned down half of it with a few furious draws he turned his attention back to the motel far below.
It was hard to tell from up here, but it looked like Gabriela was poking around his room. Mrs. Parsons stood in the yard of the blue house, chewing nervously on her nails as she watched the maid unlock the door and vanish inside, and when Gabriela re-emerged and shrugged her shoulders Mrs. Parsons grabbed her radio and spoke a few words. It looked like they’d figured out he wasn’t there any more.
Cathy coughed. “God, I needed that. I’ve been dreaming about a cigarette for about six hours now. I don’t suppose you have anything to drink, right?”
“Sorry, I forgot to raid the mini bar,” Jack growled impatiently. “Now what did you mean when you said they’re not gonna let me leave?”
“I mean exactly that, Jack.” Cathy wrapped her jacket tightly around herself, shivering despite the warm sun. “They’re planning to keep you here. I was down there,” she said, pointing to the parking lot. “Last night. After you guys went to bed I realized I’d left my smokes in the truck, so I went out to find them. That’s when I saw the… y’know, that fat woman. The sheriff’s wife. The maid let her into your room.”
“Yeah,” Jack nodded. “She came in to take my clothes for the laundry. I remember that.”
Cathy shook her head. “No, not then. That was just after we checked in. I’m talking about later, maybe a couple hours after we arrived. You were out like a light. I could hea
r you talking in your sleep all the way from the truck.”
“You mean Mrs. Parsons went into my room while I was sleeping?”
“Did I stutter? Yes, while you were sleeping. I heard her say something to the maid about forgetting your jacket when she took the rest of your clothes.”
“But she didn’t wash my jacket. It’s still on the floor in my room, torn to shreds.”
“Yeah, I know. Will you just shut up and listen? I was watching her from the truck. When she picked up the jacket she emptied out your pockets. I figured she’d drop your things on the nightstand, but when she came out of your room a minute later she was still holding your wallet and your phone. I thought she was robbing you. I was about to say something, but—”
“What the hell?” Jack was completely lost. “Parsons said she accidentally put my stuff in the washing machine!”
“Seriously, Jack, do you want me to tell you what happened, or do you just want to keep butting in?”
“Sorry,” he muttered, reluctantly. “Go on.”
“Thank you. Like I said, at first I just figured she was robbing you, but then she called the sheriff on her radio and he came waddling across the parking lot like he was trying to break the land speed record, all excited, face red as a beetroot. They both looked like they’d found a winning lottery ticket in your pocket.” Cathy tapped her ash to the ground. “That’s when I hid under the truck. I wanted to see what the hell was going on.”
Jack still couldn’t see how any of this made a lick of sense. Why would anyone get excited about the contents of his pockets? His phone was just a cheap Android, and there was nothing in his wallet but a few hundred bucks and a couple of credit cards. Not a bad haul for a pickpocket, but it was hardly life changing.
Cathy noticed Jack’s confused expression, and finally she enlightened him.
“It was your ID,” she said, watching as the light dawned in Jack’s eyes. “I’m guessing it says you’re a doctor, right?”
Jack nodded. “Yeah, I still have my hospital ID from Saint Francis. I guess I couldn't bring myself to toss it out after I lost my license. You mean they’re getting all bent out of shape because I’m a doctor?”
Cathy nodded. “Yeah, and do you know why?”
Jack frowned. “Well, I guess maybe they have some sick―”
“I'm gonna stop you right there, Jack,” Cathy interrupted. “You'll never guess in a million years.” She jabbed a finger at the town below. “Plumas Creek isn't just a random little village up in the hills. Do you want to know what it is?”
Jack scowled, frustrated and impatient. “Of course I do. Stop screwing around and tell me what's going on.”
“They're getting all bent out of shape because it's a damned survivalist compound, Jack.”
Jack stared at her uncomprehendingly. “A what? Survivalist? Please don't tell me we've wandered into some kind of weird cult thing.”
Cathy shook her head. “No, it's not a cult thing. Didn't you ever see those shows on TV? Doomsday Preppers? Ringing any bells?”
“No. My wife kept the TV when I moved out,” Jack replied. “I just watch whatever sports are playing above the bar.”
Cathy sighed, amazed that Jack wasn't familiar. “Survivalists. Preppers. These are folks who believe the end of the world is coming. They think the shit will hit the fan in the form of natural disasters, climate change, outbreaks of disease or, drum roll, please...” she pointed to the sky above her, “nuclear war. They think the government won't be able to handle whatever's coming our way, and when disaster hits it'll take civilized society with it.”
Jack raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I heard about those guys on talk radio. Sounds an awful lot like a cult to me.”
“It sounds an awful lot like they're smarter than the rest of us, Jack. A lot of these people have spent years preparing for the collapse. They stockpile food, medicine and clean water. They take themselves off the grid so they'll still have power when the rest of us are freezing our asses off in the dark, and some of them arm themselves so heavily they could outgun a small country. They want to be ready for anything.”
“This still sounds like it's ticking all the cult boxes. Armed crazy people preparing for the apocalypse? Seems pretty cultish to me.”
“Damn it, it's not a cult!” Kathy insisted, lowering her voice when she realized it might carry down the hill. “It's not a cult, Jack. I have a few prepper friends up in Pine Bluff. They're not crazy. Most of them are just regular people who want to be sure they'll get by if anything bad happens. Y'know, like exactly this situation we're in right now. It's just common sense to prepare for the worst when you live in a country that has a run on bottled water whenever the weatherman announces a light shower.”
“You're telling me these are regular people,” Jack argued, “and at the same time you're saying they want to hold me hostage because I'm a doctor? How does that make any sense?”
Cathy looked down at the motel below, narrowing her eyes with loathing. “Oh no, I'm just saying that most preppers are regular people. These assholes are crazy.”
“Then what the hell are we arguing about?” Jack hissed.
“Nothing,” muttered Cathy. “I just don't want you to paint them all with the same brush. Some of my friends are preppers, but they'd never do anything like this.”
“And what is this, exactly? I still have no idea what they want with me.”
Cathy stubbed out her cigarette on the ground and looked back at Jack. “All I know is what I picked up from the sheriff and his wife, but as far as I understood it they're pretty much all set to survive up here for years without any help. Food, fresh water, solar power, the works. They've been hoarding medicine for years, and they've got a little clinic set up in the church, but it looks like they're missing a doctor.”
Jack shook his head in disbelief. “That seems like a pretty massive oversight from people who call themselves preppers.”
“No, they had a doctor. I might have misunderstood, but they were talking about some guy named Ed Irwin. Apparently he's the local doc and his wife is some kind of nurse, but they're both in Florida for their son's wedding. Sounds like it's just really bad timing, but I'm guessing it'd be a hell of a job to make it all the way across the country right now. They're short a doctor the day the world goes to hell, and then out of the clear blue sky you fall right into their lap.”
“So, what? They're planning to hobble me or something? Chain me to a radiator? What's their game plan here?”
Cathy shrugged. “The sheriff and his wife had a pretty huge row about that when they found out who you were. It looked to me like they couldn’t agree what to do. Things got pretty damned heated, and then the sheriff stormed over and started screwing with my truck. I figure he was just trying to buy himself some time so he could work out some way of keeping you here permanently.”
“But why would they need to screw with the truck? Why stop us leaving at all? If they need a doctor, why not just ask? It’s not like I’d refuse to help.”
“You’d help now, yeah, but Parsons heard you last night, remember? You told him you were on the way to find your wife and kid. He knows you’re out of here as soon as we get gas, and he needs you here for keeps.”
“But why? Why in God’s name would they need to hold a doctor hostage?”
Cathy shot Jack a look that suggested she thought he was simple. “Seriously? Why wouldn’t they? I don’t know what the hell’s going on out there, but it seems to me the world’s coming to an end. We’ve got nukes – actual God damned nukes – blowing up our cities. This isn’t the kind of thing we just shake off. This is it. Game over.”
She shook her head. “The way I see it this is survival of the fittest right now, and if a doctor shows up on your doorstep you don’t just let him gas up and send him on his way. Hell, I don’t even really blame them. I can at least understand why they’d want to keep you here.”
“You understand?” Jack spat the words. “You understand why they’d
stop me leaving to save my family?”
“Hey, I said it’s survival of the fittest, not survival of the nicest,” Cathy shrugged. “And I understand, but I still want to kick their asses. These guys aren’t screwing around. I waited about a half hour after the sheriff went back to his house before I climbed out from under the truck, but he must have been sitting out on his porch. Soon as he saw me he must have figured I knew what was going down, and the bastard pulled his gun.”
“Jesus!” Jack exclaimed, eyes wide. “Do you really think he would have shot you?”
Cathy shrugged. “I didn’t stick around long enough to find out. The second I saw him I booked it down the street, then I circled around the gas station and made my way up here as soon as I was sure he wasn’t on my tail.” She played nervously with the lighter in her hand, staring down at the parking lot below. “Honestly, though? I think the only reason he didn’t shoot me in the back is because he didn’t want to wake you up and tip you off.”
She tucked the lighter in her pocket and pushed herself from the ground, stretching her aching joints. “Anyway, whether or not he’d actually have pulled the trigger, I don’t want to stick around another second. We need to get the hell out before someone does something stupid and one of us ends up dead.”
“Agreed,” Jack nodded. “We need to find ourselves a new vehicle. The only thing I’ve seen around here is the sheriff’s cruiser, so I guess we should head towards those houses over there.” He pointed south towards the cluster of homes by the church. “I can see a couple cars in the driveways from here. I’m guessing most of the town is still at the meeting, so maybe we can break in and grab some keys without sounding the alarm.”
Cathy shook her head. “Well, hold up there. I don’t want to give up on the truck just yet. I couldn’t see what Parsons was doing to it, but I know he was standing on the left side of the engine bay. If I had to guess I’d say he was screwing with the fuses. He’d only have to switch out a couple into the wrong circuits to kill the starter, and it’d be hard to figure out the problem without the fuse box diagram.”