THE DAY: A Novel of America in the Last Days (The End of America Series)

by John Price

  Harry Weaver considered himself to be a relatively savvy businessman. He had, after all, sold appliances at Weaver’s Home Appliance Store on downtown Cedar Street for almost twenty years. As soon as a customer in Harry’s store brought his attention to the breaking news flash on one of the television sets on the wall of Harry’s store, though, Harry knew that the world had just changed. Big time. Harry excused himself and went to his office at the rear of the store. He first tried to call his brother in Las Vegas. Uncharacteristically, his brother, who was retired and almost always at home, didn’t answer. Next Harry tried to call his sister at her beauty shop in Los Angeles. Again, no answer. Harry then began to seriously worry. He hesitated to call his only child, who was an intern at Baylor Medical Center in Dallas. His first thought was what he would do if his son didn’t answer the cell phone which had been a gift from Harry. The news report he had just seen on the display model television in his store didn’t give a full list of American cities which had been hit. What if Dallas was on the list? He didn’t think he could handle the loss of his son. As a widower, his son and his two distant siblings were his only close family.

  Saying a silent prayer, Harry punched in the numbers for his son’s cell. "Hello, Dad. Are you alright?"

  "Yes, son, but more important….how are you? Did Dallas have any….you know….bombs….nukes? I’m sure you’ve heard about New York and DC and…."

  "Look, Dad, I can’t talk long, we’re on emergency status. No bombs in Dallas, thank God, but Houston, we understand, was hit. We’re packing up medical supplies to take to Houston, or whatever’s left of it. As a precaution, you should put about 100 drops of iodine in some water and drink it. Do that every day for a few days, until the fallout has dissipated. Even where you are in Abilene, you’re likely to get wind-blown fallout from the west."

  "Thanks, son, I’ll do it, but you need to get back to work. Be real careful if you get very close to ground zero in Houston…..Just be careful…. I love you, son."

  Harry closed his store and walked home to follow his son’s iodine regimen. After slowly sipping the fluid, Harry began to think. What should I be doing, he pondered. What should I be doing?

  In the shower the next morning Harry knew what he had to do, and do quickly. If the U.S. has been hit as hard as it sounded from the isolated news he was able to get, what with all of the major news and cable networks no longer broadcasting, he knew his business would be hit almost as hard. Who would want to buy an appliance when the nation was partially destroyed? As a businessman for two decades Harry suspected that the multiple nukes would have a devastating effect on the country, even out in the plains of Kansas. His business was effectively done for – finished – kaput. In the months before The Day Harry had laughed at some of the news coverage of so-called preppers, whom he viewed as extreme. When he heard that a pastor of a small church in Abilene had moved his family to Panama to avoid participating in America’s so-called sins, he just shook his head, wondering why anyone would voluntarily give up living in the greatest country on the globe?

  After thinking it all through, Harry headed to his bank, the Abilene State Savings Bank, where Harry maintained his personal and business accounts. Harry wasn’t wealthy by any means, but he mentally calculated on his brisk walk to the bank that his personal account held over thirty thousand dollars and the store’s account was north of a hundred thousand, most of it in low interest paying certificates of deposit. It was a few minutes before nine, the time that the bank opened for business, when Harry turned the corner and soon realized that he wasn’t the only bank customer with the same idea in mind – to get their money out of their bank. As he walked up to the bank’s still-locked doors Harry counted eleven people standing in line.

  Harry knew the two people standing at the end of the line, a couple who had done business with his store, almost since he opened in 1994. Turning, the couple saw Harry as he approached. "Harry, how are you today?....Did you hear about Russia and Iran. Both Moscow and Tehran were hit hard, but not by Israel. I heard it on my short wave right before we came over here. Looks like the same kind of fire and brimstone that was rained on their troops which invaded Israel. Those cowards. Those murderers. They’re getting exactly what they deserve. A guy in our church says that the Bible prophesied that when they invaded Israel they would pay for it. Can you believe it? God help us."

  "Murderers," Harry replied, disgust in his voice, "Why in the world would they do it?....Russia? And Iran? We should have stopped Iran from getting nukes when we had a chance. How many died?"

  "They didn’t say. We haven’t heard anything about death tolls. Are you here for the same reason that we are?"

  "Yeah. To get my money." As they were talking, several more walked up, joining the line, which was now around the corner of the bank building.

  At 9 AM promptly the front door was unlocked, but instead of allowing the waiting customers entry to the bank lobby, a bank uniformed guard came out and announced, "Folks, I’ve been asked by management to tell you that the bank is closed today." His words were met by shouts of anger,

  "What? This is a business day."

  "You can’t do that!"

  "We want our money."

  "Where’s management? Bring the cowards out here. We’ll show them what they can…."

  The guard ducked back into the bank. The line was no longer a line, but was instead a mob, gathered at the front door, banging on the glass of the doors and the front windows. Frightened bank employees peered out at the angry mob. Harry caught the eye of the branch manager whom Harry had known from his first day of business. Harry nodded his head slightly, indicating that he would meet him at the bank’s service door, located in the alley behind the bank. Harry mumbled that the bank obviously wasn’t going to open today and slowly pulled away from the Bank’s customers who were taking out their anger on the bank’s doors and windows

  Checking behind him to insure that he was alone in the alley, Harry knocked softly on the bank’s rear service door. It was immediately opened by his manager friend. "Get in here, Harry, what’s that all about out there? Who organized that mob?"

  "What? Are you deaf and dumb, ol’ buddy? We just want our money. My business now will be toast, at least for a few months….or maybe years….who knows at this point in time how bad it’s going to get, even out here in the plains, away from the nuked cities? My son in Dallas tells me they hit Houston. That means that a huge percentage of our refining capacity is gone. No refined gasoline or diesel fuel will translate pretty soon, I’m sure, into no food being hauled to stores, which means violence, massive thievery, you name it."

  "Aren’t you just a bundle of morning joy? But, Harry, why were you at the bank this early? You generally make late afternoon deposits."

  "Well, duh, why do you think? I need my money….and I need it today. Look at that crowd, it’ll be a hundred times larger once people figure out what’s happened. So, fork it over, I wanna get outta here before things turn ugly."

  "Well….uh….Harry….uh….we can’t do that."

  "Can’t do what? I want my money. I only have a little over a hundred and thirty thousand dollars between my two accounts….give or take. So, give me the form I need to sign and I’ll get out of your hair."

  "Harry….I just told you….we can’t do that."

  "I heard you the first time, but I need my money….now."

  "Look, Harry, let me explain this. We don’t carry that kind of cash in the vault. Your money, most of which as I recall is in CDs, is invested in loans to other customers, Harry, it’s not here."

  "Who do you think you are….George Bailey? I know how fractional banking works, but I know you either have or can soon get a measly hundred grand or so. That’s chump change for you guys. So come on, I’m not leaving until I get my money. Got it?"

  The Abilene State Savings Bank branch manager looked over at the two bank guards who were standing in the bank lobby at the bank’s front doors, their hands resting nervously on the
ir holstered revolvers. One of the guards looked back and saw the manager motion for him. He strode back to the manager, who was standing next to an obviously irate Harry.

  Harry recognized what had just happened, hissed, "So, that’s how it is, hunh? You threaten to shoot a good customer who only just wants his money. I get it….I get it."

  "Harry, nobody’s going to shoot you, or anyone of those people pounding on the front of the bank. That being said, we don’t have the money you want, so you’re going to have to leave. Tom, will you take Harry to the back door, please?"

  "Wait….wait….I understand that you’ve got a lot of people that are going to want their money, I’m willing to compromise….just for now, you understand. Later, I’ll want all of it. But for now, how about just thirty thousand?"

  "Harry….Harry….I really wish we could, but we only keep a few thousand bucks in cash to handle the very few people in this day and age who need actual greenbacks. With banking online and credit cards, we just don’t have a call for that much cash."

  Harry wiped the sweat off his forehead. He had worked himself into arrhythmia, stressing out over money, which he had told himself he wouldn’t do. He tried one more approach, "As a favor, to one of your best, long-time customers, how about five thousand, the rest next week, after you get more cash? What do you say?"

  "Harry, we can’t do that….But….well….here….come over to the teller cage."

  Once there, the bank’s manager unlocked the cash drawer. He counted out five one hundred dollar bills, six fifties and enough twenties and tens to total an even thousand dollars. He counted it out in front of Harry, handing it to him, and in a lowered voice said, "You didn’t get this here. If it becomes known that we’re giving out money to some, even to a few customers , they’ll break through the doors they’re only pounding on now. Stick this in your pocket and get out of here. But, Harry, you better be prepared for what is quite likely about to happen."

  Harry looked at the small stack of bills in his hand, looked at the manager and said, "Only a grand? That’s it? A measly thousand bucks?" Seeing that he had just been given all he was going to get, he asked, "What should I be prepared for….a grand sure won’t help all that much."

  "Harry, those bills may buy you some food or gas or whatever…today….but see if anyone will take paper money for food in another day or two. My point is that even if you had all one hundred plus grand, very soon it won’t do you a bit of good. Think barter, Harry, think barter. The dollar was sinking fast before the attacks on America, but now the dollar’s all but dead."

  47

  Lee’s Gas Station and Food Mart

  Abilene, Kansas

  Harry Weaver left the Abilene State Savings Bank through its alley door, still munching on what the bank’s manager had just said about the worthless dollar. Whatever happened, Harry thought, to the ‘almighty dollar’? Didn’t seem very almighty now. But, Harry had just over a thousand dollars in his pocket, so he decided to test what the bank manager had just said. He didn’t want to get rid of too many dollars, as he expected they would come in real handy in the days following The Day, but the only way to find out was to find out. He walked the seven blocks to his modest home, entered the garage and grabbed his red metal five gallon gasoline can, which he used when he needed to fuel his 4000W generator, when the power was out. He shook the can, realized he had a small quantity of gas still left and poured the balance into the tank of the generator.

  Harry then walked two blocks over to Lee’s Gas station where he always bought his gasoline, not only for his generator, but also for his Toyota. Walking up to the station, Harry saw that the owner, Lee, whom he had known for several years was working today. He also saw that Lee was in what appeared to be a heated argument with a customer, whose car was parked in one of the two fill lanes. Just as Harry approached the two dueling men he heard the customer say words that no businessman ever wants to hear, "Well, then, I’ll never do business at this dump again….never….never." The irate customer jumped in his car and peeled out of the station, leaving a small cloud of exhaust fumes and burnt rubber.

  Harry said, "Lee, sorry about that hot head. You can’t please everybody, I guess." Holding out his gas can, Harry said, "I need to buy some gas for my generator. Never know when the power may go out. I expected quite a few cars would be here buying gas, what with the nuking on the coasts, and all."

  "Oh, hi, Harry, yeah, well, we did have a run there for a while late yesterday, but it slowed down considerably once word spread in the area about our new policy."

  "Oh, what policy is that, Lee?"

  "No more cash or credit sales."

  "Oh, okay….No, wait….I understand no credit sales. Who knows what’s gonna’ happen to credit cards, right? But, cash? No cash sales? What does that mean? How can you sell anything if you don’t take cash or credit?"

  "Barter."

  "Barter?"

  "Un-hunh. Barter only. I got the gas. Folks are going to need gas. I don’t want their worthless dollars. Nobody else will be taking dollars, soon. Don’t believe me? Try getting anybody in town to sell you anything of value for dollars. You own an appliance store, right Harry? Will you sell me a new refrigerator for worthless paper that’s no good to buy anything anywhere? I didn’t think so. If you want gas, I’ll trade you for something that’s actually worth something, you follow me?"

  Harry couldn’t get his breath he was so taken aback. When he tried to respond to what he had just heard, he couldn’t get his words out. After wiping his forehead, he gulped twice, saying, "But, Lee, I’ve done business with you for years, lots of years. We’re like….you know….friends."

  "Really? Friends? That’s what the guy who just ripped out of here said when I told him his worthless money was no good here. You wanna’ yell at me too, or do you have something you can trade for gas? What kind of watch is that you’re wearing?"

  "I’ll pay you later, sign a note, whatever, but I’m not giving you my watch. No way."

  "Harry, Hunh?"

  "Are you nuts? Do you think I’d trade in my generator for gas to use in the generator, that I’d just traded to you for the gas? Get real, Lee. Your gas fumes are going to your head. Just sayin’."

  "OK, you’re a businessman. A bargainer, I see that. You own a Toyota. I fill it for you every two weeks, give or take. It holds about sixteen gallons. I’ll trade you a full tank of gas for the car in exchange for your generator. What do you say?"

  "WHAT? Sixty bucks of gas for a four hundred dollar generator? As I just asked, are you nuts, Lee? Bonkers? Who would do that?"

  "Lots of people, Harry. My repair bay over there is full of things I’ve traded to folks for gasoline. Harry, in case you haven’t figured it out, they won’t be making no more gasoline, no, not for a long time. Maybe never. You like walking, Harry? You wanna’ walk two miles, ten miles? Places you don’t think twice about driving to now. When your Toyota is empty Harry, how ya’ gonna’ get around? I’m your last hope Harry. I just stuck my tanks. I’m down to a quarter of my supply left. When that’s gone, it’s gone. What do ya say, Harry? Do we gotta’ a deal?"

  Harry studied the sky, thought about it and said, "Two tanks of gas for the Toyota."

  "No. It’ll be gone before you use up the first tank and come back for a fill up. Don’t wanna’ cheat ya, Harry," Lee said with a sardonic smile.

  "Hum….Fill the Toyota….plus this gas can."

  "Done….Bring the generator when you come back in your Toyota."

  "Bandit. Thief."

  "Then don’t come back. In tough times a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do….Harry, ya’ll do what ya’ll gotta do. You’ll see."

  "I’ll….be….right….back."

  48

  Columbia Food Distribution, Inc.

  Columbia, Missouri

  Thad Stevens was worried. His concerns weren’t for his business, as he knew with nearly 100% assurance that his business was gone, over, done. With no diesel fuel he couldn’t haul
food products to his grocery store customers, nor could his suppliers bring food products to his warehouse. In addition to which he was about to find that when he flipped a light switch he would have no electricity.

  Thad was worried that his warehouse would soon be overrun by hungry people who knew, or who learned, what his large aluminum building actually held. He looked out his interior window at the warehouse. Stacked on pallets for the length of the warehouse were hundreds of boxes of canned food. He pulled out the inventory of food products currently in-house. He calculated that in the warehouse he had at least thirty-two semi-trucks of food. He punched the inventory numbers into his hand calculator, concluding that what he had on hand was a normal nine to ten day supply. So, after about a week and a half his warehouse would be empty, that is if he were able to haul food to grocery store customers from Kansas City to St. Louis.

  Thad couldn’t decide what to do with the food he still held in his warehouse. He knew he could load it up in the eighteen semis at his docks and ship the food to his best customers, using what fuel he still held in the storage tanks behind the warehouse, and then bringing most of the trucks back, filling them with the balance of his supplies and delivering the last of the food to the closest customers, using what was left of his fuel. He could pay his employees with food to encourage them to come in to load and haul the food. His emerging plan struck Thad as the most humane way to dispose of his food supplies.

  However, as he mulled it over he realized that even though he would be pushing food supplies out into Missouri grocery stores, the stores wouldn’t really be benefitted by the food. Thad knew that marauding gangs would quickly grab the food, most likely without paying for it and probably before the semis could even be unloaded. So, he could help thieves, but not his good customers. Thad wasn’t satisfied with his first plan, so he mulled over his other options.

  Why not just open the front door and trade people cartons of food for silver coins, or gold jewelry or other tangible assets, he asked himself. He could then take the metals and other assets and….what….do what with them? Use it to buy fuel? There won’t be any soon. Buy electricity? Same answer. Buy someone’s house? Why? I have a house, so owning somebody else’s house made no sense. Buy another car? Dumb thought. The only thing that would make any sense at all, he eventually concluded, would be to use the assets to buy….food…..Humh….Food is what I have now, so why should I get rid of it, and then hope I can get food later, trading for food with what I get from people who buy….my food? His circular reasoning made his head hurt.