Broad America: A Post-Apocalyptic Adventure (End Days Book 3)

by E. E. Isherwood

  “Don’t fancy it up on my account. If you keep driving like you have, you can use the F-word in every sentence as far as I’m concerned.”

  They laughed, despite the scene outside.

  “I’ll try not to. I want to be a better man—for my son, of course.”

  Buck drove with one hand on the wheel and the other on his window sill like he was having the best day of his life. It would have cost her nothing to lie and say she had a man-friend back home, but she hadn’t. He’d put himself out there, and she hadn’t shot him down.

  Buck picked up the CB microphone a short time later. “Goodbye, Salt Lake City. Hello, Wyoming.” They still had seventy-five miles to the border, but they were as good as there.

  The rising plume of ash haunted his side mirror almost the whole way.

  Ramstein Air Base, Germany

  “Gentlemen, that’s all I have for you. We hop in an APC in fifteen, and we’ll be on our way.” Lieutenant Colonel Ethan Knight’s briefing was about as thorough as he could make it, given that there was almost no intel on what to expect at the destination.

  The eight enlisted men headed for the depot, but Phil stayed behind.

  Ethan spoke quietly. “They are probably wondering what the hell is going on, working for two colonels on such a small team. These are strange times, huh?”

  “Can’t argue with that,” he replied.

  “These men are professionals, but they don’t have much experience. You came from a hot zone, so I’m glad we ran into each other when we did.”

  They were both lieutenant colonels, but Ethan had seniority based on time in grade. Phil was fine with it, though, since he was tagging along on the other officer’s op.

  “It’s been a while since I’ve been on such a small team,” Phil joked, “but I can’t believe we’re it. There has to be something more effective than two colonels and an ad-hoc squad that could go snoop around?”

  Ethan shook his head vigorously. “I told you, everyone is jumping on whatever floats, drives, or flies to get to America. Most of the guys in Germany are heading north to the ports. I had to scrounge to find what we’ve got, including pulling a couple of men out of hospital beds.”

  “Is that going to be a problem?” he asked. There would be nothing worse than taking injured men into battle, himself excluded. His face still hurt, and it was bruised, but the pain was manageable even without pain killers. Nothing would interfere with his ability to fight.

  “This is a simple recon mission. We’re going to see some scientists, or, if they aren’t home, see their bunker. If this were peacetime, I could have driven my car down there by myself, but my orders were to head out in at least squad strength. If we get into trouble, the 173d Airborne Brigade Combat Team is pulling duty as a quick reaction force for all of southern Europe. They’re on standby in Caserma Ederle Army Base in Italy.

  “Shit, how far is that?”

  “Far,” he deadpanned. “So let’s not get into trouble.”

  “I didn’t want to ask this in the meeting, but why not have the Swiss Army go in and poke around for us?”

  “I asked that same question of the colonel,” Ethan remarked. “You know what he said?”

  He’d been in plenty of briefings where no one up the chain wanted to divulge important pieces of information for the men at the tip of the spear. He tried to be diligent about not doing that to his own men whenever possible, but there were times he had to keep them in the dark. However, he could tell by Ethan’s tone what he was going to say.

  “Go fuck yourself?”

  Ethan laughed. “Pretty much. All he would say is the order came from a four-star in the States who told him this is an American problem, and it requires an American solution.”

  “Well, as long as I don’t see ghost units from the past like back in the ‘Stan, I imagine this will be a lookie-loo operation. This particle accelerator campus sounds like a university, not a hardened military site.”

  “Don’t let the pretty co-eds mess with your head. We’ve got to get eyes on the hardware inside and report what we find up the chain. On paper, it is nothing.”

  “But no plan survives contact…”

  Ethan frowned. “We’re traveling light, but be sure to load up on rifle mags. We’re not taking any chances. I heard fifth-hand that a couple of British Red Devils para-dropped into Arnhem, Netherlands last night. There really might be World War II crap showing up. Hell, Hitler himself might walk out of CERN, and then we’ll have our hands full with SS stormtroopers and other douchebags.”

  Phil chuckled until he realized Ethan was serious.

  “Well, am I cleared to shoot Hitler if he’s there?”

  That broke Ethan’s serious demeanor. “Always. If you see that Nazi prick, you shoot him in the face.”

  They laughed together, but under the surface, Phil’s nerves were at a boil. Ethan wasn’t just planning for battle, he expected it.

  CHAPTER 9

  Little America, Wyoming

  “I feel like we’ve found a patch of grass on the Moon,” Connie said as they pulled into the Little America truck stop. The tree-lined facility was an oasis on the endless flat scrub-brush plains of this part of Wyoming, and contained a small hotel, a restaurant, and two gas stations.

  Buck pulled up to a diesel pump in the tractor-trailer section of the parking lot.

  “Everyone stops here,” he said. “Mostly because it is the only thing for thirty miles in either direction, but also because it’s a nice place. Sometimes a clean can and shower are all it takes to get a driver to stop.”

  “Yuck,” she replied before thinking about it. “I bet you’ve seen some nasty bathrooms on your trips.”

  “You have no idea. There was this one overflow situation in Mitchell, South Dakota that I—”

  She held up her hand. “Why would you think I would want to hear that story? I don’t want to know the details!”

  They laughed as he pulled out his gas card.

  “You want to take Mac for a walk while I gas up? Then we’ll go into the shop and see what they have for clothes. I’m telling you, John Deere green might be your color.” He had razzed her the previous night about buying her clothes from the tractor company, mainly because their trademark green color was something she would know.

  “I’ll walk your little sweetheart.” She brushed against Big Mac’s flank. “Then I’ll buy what I need without your suggestions.”

  “Hmm,” he said nonchalantly. “I doubt your credit cards will be any good in my time. Are you sure you have enough cash? If not, I’m going to buy what I want for you.”

  She gritted her teeth and crinkled her nose like she didn’t want to reply.

  “Do you think a twenty will buy a shirt and pants? It’s all the cash I have.”

  As he climbed out of the cab, he paused and glanced back like he was going to answer her, but then he shut the door and hopped to the pavement. He decided to have a little fun with her and make her sweat.

  Monsignor’s shiny tanker was parked at the adjacent pump. The youthful trucker was already out of his rig and had come over to talk. “This is crazy, isn’t it?”

  Buck looked around. The place was pretty busy, but not the worst he’d seen. “I guess. We’ll have no problem getting a table for lunch.”

  Monsignor shook his head. “Not here. Haven’t you been listening to the radio? Everyone is talking about how SNAKE is going to end the world!”

  The TV and radio had been talking about SNAKE all morning. It had become repetitive to the point of agony, so he and Connie had agreed they needed to tune out for a while. They’d been listening to one of his books on tape for the last hour.

  “What are you talking about? The news guys said the place worked with subatomic whatchyamajiggers, not end-the-world bombs and shit. They said that about a hundred times.” When he was at home, he tuned into science shows to provide Garth with an example of programs he should be watching. Buck didn’t always care for them, but he figured
they would make Garth smarter and help get him into a good college.

  “Everything has changed in the last couple of hours. The security guards at the site shot some people dead, then kept protesters from getting closer. They think terrorists have taken over inside.”

  Buck was always skeptical of the news. “Terrorists have taken over a super collider? How are they going to work it?” He sighed. “It sounds like something is going down, but I don’t think for a second it could threaten the world.”

  The other driver looked more shaken than usual.

  “Don’t leave without me,” Monsignor fretted as he trotted away. He tripped on the curb of the gas island but got right back up and kept talking over his shoulder. “I’m going to gas up and listen some more to the news to see if there’s anything new.”

  Buck got the pump started and decided to call Garth. He figured his son was well on his way home by now.

  The phone rang a couple of times, but then faded and disappeared like police sirens driving into the distance. He dialed again, but only heard a series of clicks. It was about what he expected, even when he had a line of sight to one of the cellular towers.

  He turned and faced the giant tower at the corner of the big parking lot, which stood against the flat horizon like a lone metal tree. Even as close as it was, he couldn’t talk to his son.

  “Dammit to hell.” He punched the buttons to text Garth, hoping he’d have better luck.

  He sent a short text as a trial. Hello G. All OK?

  Almost immediately, a message popped up. Dad. Gas stations won’t let me buy gas. Getting gas another way. More soon.

  “What the hell?” he said to himself.

  What are you doing? he texted. Buck envisioned Garth trying to siphon fuel with a length of tubing because it was the only other method he could think of.

  He watched his phone while the pump chugged diesel into his tank, but it finally clicked off because he’d reached maximum capacity.

  “Fuck,” he fumed. Whatever Garth was doing, he wasn’t replying. Or he couldn’t. Or the cell tower wouldn’t connect. Or…

  Buck calmed himself by taking a long, deep breath. The fumes of the pumps reminded him of innumerable other fill-ups in his career. Somewhere far to the east, his boy was trying to get gas for his own vehicle.

  Good luck, son. I’m not sure I’d know what to do either. His thoughts returned to two days prior when the motel owner claimed he had counterfeit bills and Buck couldn’t use his credit card. I don’t know either.

  Georgetown, Delaware

  Garth had to pull over and park twice during his quest for gas. Each time he sat and debated going left, right, or forward. Each time he asked Lydia which road appeared larger and better traveled than the others. He was sold on the idea that the biggest road would take him to the largest town, and that was where he was going to find somewhere large enough to sell gas cans.

  It seemed like hours before he found a place in Georgetown, Delaware. The standalone building was off by itself, although some houses were visible behind the store through some trees.

  “The Dollar Palace will have what we need,” he said with certainty as he parked the car on the little lot. “It has everything.”

  “Will they have chocolate?” she brightened.

  “Definitely.”

  There were five or six other cars on the lot, suggesting it was open and everything was normal. He figured they would be okay going in together.

  He patted the gun in his front pocket to remind himself it was there. He also double-checked his money supply, which he kept in the tiny front pocket of his jeans that wasn’t used for anything else. It was a trick he had learned from Sam to keep pickpockets from robbing him on the subways.

  The nyuck-nyuck ringtone announced that his dad had sent a message.

  “What was that?” she asked.

  “My dad sent me a text.” He pulled the phone out.

  Hello G. All OK?

  Garth didn’t want to get into a long discussion, so he shot a reply. ‘Dad. Gas stations won’t let me buy gas. Getting gas another way. More soon.’

  “Let’s go inside,” he said to her.

  She followed him through the automatic sliding doors. She oohed and aahed as she walked between them. “Wow. This is amazing!”

  He gently tugged at her elbow to get her through. “They’ll keep opening and closing if you stand there.”

  “What? How do they know?” She looked over her shoulder as he pulled her inside.

  The elderly woman pulling clerk duties didn’t even look at them. She appeared to stare at the floor or was daydreaming about being somewhere else.

  “Oh my gosh! Look at this stuff! These food tins have cute kittens on the cans.” She hesitated, then spoke with disgust. “Do you eat cats?”

  He laughed. “No! Gross! Those are cans of cat food. They are for cats to eat.”

  She looked at it for a second, then back to him. “You have enough wealth to give your feral cats their own food?”

  He shrugged. “It doesn’t mean you’re wealthy. Everyone feeds their cats this way. I assume so, anyway, since Dad doesn’t let me have cats or other pets.”

  Her distractions only got worse from there. Lydia went into each aisle, and immediately found things that made her gush with enthusiasm at her good luck to see such wonders.

  “If we ever get back, I’m going to take you to a shopping mall. They have a hundred stores with crap on the shelves like this. You’ll never want to leave.”

  She heard him, but barely acknowledged what he’d said because she’d found a display of cheap cooking utensils.

  “This one is plastic? How can it survive being in the fire?”

  He chuckled. “You have a lot to learn. We don’t cook on open fires anymore.”

  Garth admired how her emerald eyes seemed to get twice as big with shock. “Oh, I have got to see you cook, Garth. Will you show me?”

  There was no one else in their row, so he stepped up next to her and spoke softly. “I don’t know how to cook, except using the microwave.”

  “What is a—” she began to say before he cut her off.

  “Wait a sec. What’s going on back there?” He saw two men walk by at the end of the aisle, each pushing a full shopping cart. A second later, three more men walked by pushing another pair of carts.

  If he wasn’t already on alert, he might not have thought anything of it, but the fronts of the aisles were all empty. Someone had to drive those cars parked outside, and there was no way all of them would naturally go to the back of the store.

  “Hey, I see the gas cans,” he added quietly. They were most of the way down the aisle, but the red plastic containers were hard to miss.

  “Stick with me,” he advised. His heart rate, as if it was warming up for a hasty retreat. The gun in his pocket threatened to drop his pants right off his hips because it suddenly felt like it weighed a hundred pounds.

  A pair of shifty-looking women trundled carts by the end of his aisle, and one of them looked at him for a second before continuing on.

  “We have to hurry,” he told Lydia.

  “Why? I have to see all these sundries. I’m sure I need something here.”

  “I’m sure you do too, but right now this is all we need.” He grabbed one of the medium-sized fuel containers, figuring it was about the right size to carry around. As soon as he had it in his hand, he shoved Lydia back up the aisle.

  “Go!” he ordered.

  “But…” she complained.

  “No.” He shoved her toward the exit. “Go!”

  He felt bad for pushing her, but there was no reason to stick around a second longer. When he reached the end of the aisle, he was relieved to see the old woman, but he realized that was premature.

  Someone shouted in the back of the store, but he couldn’t understand what they said.

  “Ma’am, we want to buy this.” He plopped a ten on the counter.

  The old woman seemed to come to lif
e, but not at top speed.

  “Will this be all? Did you find everything all right?” They were the two things she was probably trained to say, because every checkout person in history had asked him the same two questions.

  “We didn’t find chocolate,” Lydia replied dutifully.

  He couldn’t take the delay. “You know what? Keep the change.”

  He grabbed the can and made for the entrance, but stopped before leaving. “Ma’am, they are stealing from your store back there. I’m sure of it.”

  “Oh, dear,” she replied in a voice as slow as molasses.

  “I love your store,” Lydia added.

  “Come on,” he said again. This time he made sure she didn’t dawdle at the magic door.

  “What is the hurry?” she said, finally showing her anger. “I want to explore everything this future world has to offer.”

  Garth jogged to the taxi, praying she kept up. He was inside and had the car started before she got inside.

  “Close the door!” he barked.

  “Oh, my. Garth, I don’t know—”

  As soon as the door was shut, he put the car in reverse. Two seconds later, he shifted into drive and smashed the gas again.

  When they drove to the far side of the store, Garth saw the looters. A line of twenty people pushed shopping carts of stuff out the back door to a waiting box truck. Empty carts went back into the store. A couple of guys with shotguns stood near the rear dock, watching him.

  “Drive safely,” he said to himself. This was no time to slip off the road.

  Garth fully expected the rear window to explode like they always do in the movies, but as he got onto the two-lane road, no one shot at him.

  He breathed wildly in and out as the panic abated.

  Lydia seemed to zone out for a short time, but then she looked at him. “You are sweating, Garth. Were you really that scared? Were we truly in danger?”

  His slippery palms slid along the steering wheel as he got the taxi up to speed.

  “I’m sorry for being like that, Lydia. I didn’t have time to explain. Those were thieves. The worker in the front was too lazy or too old to know what those people were doing in the back of her store. If we had gotten caught, they might have hurt us for seeing them. They also might have taken this cab, especially if they knew we had guns.”