Silent Interruption (Book 4): Of Tragedy and Triumph

by Russell, Trent

  “Mister Preston?”

  Preston turned his head, finding Shyanne standing behind him. The girl wore a cherubic smile. “You don’t belong here anymore.”

  “I don’t…” Preston turned to the frozen scene before him. What did Shyanne mean?

  Shyanne extended her hand. “Will you come back with me?” she asked.

  Preston started to understand. He had to let this life go. In the back of his mind, he still dreamed of how things used to be and wondered if he still could preserve some of that when he finally found his way. However, he realized he had to find new things to accomplish and new purposes in life. Helping to look after Shyanne was one of them.

  “I hate leaving this place,” he said with a sigh. “I felt like I was on top of the world here.” Preston then turned to Shyanne. “But things have changed. I’ll never be able to come here again.” He took the girl’s hand. “I’m ready to go,” he said.

  Shyanne then walked off the stage, with Preston walking with her.

  Boom!

  The loud bang woke up Preston. The store around him had descended into a maelstrom of activity, with people who were once asleep or sitting down now rising. Some gathered at the windows, pointing beyond the glass at something Preston could not make out from where he laid.

  “What’s going on?” Preston arose.

  Before anyone could provide an answer, the door flew open. Tara rushed inside. “Preston!” She stopped in front of him, sweat trickling down her face. “We got to get going! Now!”

  “Why?” Preston asked.

  Tara shook her head. “Things have really gone to hell.”

  Carl resisted the urge to sit in his old bed any longer. He was too tempted to go to sleep. The nostalgia he felt just from sitting here was overwhelming. Even though the air conditioning unit that sat in the window no longer functioned, the feel of his childhood bed and the sight of the walls around him was more than enough to take him into the past.

  Yet, if he dropped off to sleep, he might sleep through the rest of the day. He did not want to set out to Adam’s Point in darkness. Plus, he still had Chip with him. He had a responsibility to the new survivor he just had met. Chip’s injuries might be serious enough to threaten his life, possibly due to an infection. There were nurses and probably even doctors in Adam’s Point who could look him over.

  Carl sat up. He wasn’t ready to leave just yet. He still had to check out this place. He vowed not to stay much longer. If he did, he might find it too difficult to leave here at all.

  Carl spared a moment to let Chip into the house. He felt he shouldn’t leave Chip outside for any longer than necessary, as Carl couldn’t be sure that some unsavory party might spot Chip and ambush him. Besides, Chip could sit down in the living room and relax comfortably, which he surely needed after all he had been through.

  With Chip inside, Carl wandered to his brother’s old bedroom. His parents had converted it to a nice sewing room for Carl’s mother. Andy’s old bed had been moved out years ago, making room for a sewing table and a bin to house blankets and cloths. A piece of red cloth hung over the table. Mom had been working on something before she left.

  Carl’s thoughts returned to Andy. The two of them shared some similarities in that they both were go-getters and didn’t hesitate to speak their minds, although Andy was more gregarious than Carl. However, Andy did not join the military. He stayed stateside and pursued a career in the energy industry, in the process becoming a public figure not just in Adam’s Point but farther up, in the Washington D.C. suburbs. It seemed that Andy’s career would consume his personal life until last year when he finally entered into a steady relationship with Sarah Wicker. Until the EMP strike, it seemed marriage for the pair was just around the corner.

  Carl had been vigilant for signs that his brother had made it back here. But his search of the sewing room had turned up nothing. The film of dust over the table and cloth confirmed that nothing had been touched in days.

  If he had made it to the farm, I would have seen a note. There’s no way he’d leave again and not leave some kind of notice that he was here.

  In spite of the warmth of the insulated home, a chill ran down Carl’s spine. Andy was raised as Carl was to understand how to use firearms and how to hunt and fish, but Andy was no soldier. If Andy was in the D.C. suburbs at the time the electricity went down, he likely would have to fight his way out of there. A flurry of questions flooded Carl’s mind. Was Andy armed? Did Andy have to protect Sarah? Was Andy killed in the first round of riots that surely broke out once it became clear that all authority had collapsed?

  As Carl walked back into the living room, he felt the worst part was that he never would know. He would be in the same boat as millions of people who were suddenly cut off from loved ones who were in other parts of the country, or even just in different parts of a state, with no way to learn of their loved ones’ fates.

  The sound of a man clearing his throat drew Carl’s attention. Chip was seated on the living room sofa, staring at a music record. Chip had taken one from its sleeve and was looking at it. Carl’s parents had kept their records stored under the player that rested between the sofa and the television screen.

  Chip turned his heads in Carl’s direction. “I’m sorry! I was just curious.”

  Carl walked to the end of the sofa closest to him. “Naah. I told you to make yourself at home.” He sighed. “There’s no sign of anyone here. My parents left, and it doesn’t look as though my brother made it here. My mother and father might return, but I don’t know when.”

  “You know where they are? Will you go look for them?” Chip asked.

  “I have to get back to my friends. I can’t have them worrying about me. They might come looking for me. I can’t distract them while they’re trying to save Adam’s Point.” Carl scratched the side of his head. “Damn. I hate feeling this useless.”

  “Why?” Chip asked.

  “Like I told you, I inhaled a lot of smoke. It was during a rescue. Two of my friends were captured by a madman and his small army. I was fighting with their leader. The place was filling up with smoke. I couldn’t subdue him. I stayed in there too long. My friend Harold and his sons rescued me from that place. I’d be dead if it wasn’t for them.”

  Chip set the record aside. He appeared very interested in Carl’s tale. “Rescue? Oh. You’re a soldier. You told me.”

  “Yeah, it comes in real handy nowadays.” Carl looked around the rest of the living room. “Look, we should get going. I’ve done all I can here.” He turned toward the door, but then he stopped. “Actually, I’d better leave a note for my parents. If they come back before I make it back here, they should know I was here and where to find me.”

  As Carl walked back to his old bedroom, he suddenly didn’t feel so sure he and his friends still would be in Adam’s Point. If they could not contain the flames and eventually put them out, they might have to leave the town completely. He would add in a note to check for him in East Creek if he and his friends needed to depart Adam’s Point for any reason.

  Carl kept looking back as he trekked down the road toward Adam’s Point. His time at his parents’ farm had reinvigorated his physical strength, even though the failure to find his family had dampened his spirits. However, his new traveling companion still was laboring under the pain of his leg wound, so Carl could not walk as fast as he would have liked.

  “If you need a rest, let me know. The sun shouldn’t go down for a few more hours,” Carl said, “We can spare the time.”

  “Thank you,” Chip replied. “I think I can go a little more.”

  Carl studied Chip a little longer. He felt blessed that he had not run into any trouble trekking to his parents’ home and back, and also that he had run into Chip when he did. Just how many other people out there were forced to wander down countryside roads looking for help? How many people were not prepared in the least to handle the elements without the benefits of technology? Carl hated the idea that sheer luck
might separate those who survived the outdoors from those who succumbed to it. How many wanderers would run into a former U.S. Marine on the road? Not many, Carl thought.

  The ground began sloping downward. The land was growing flatter. Adam’s Point would not be far.

  Then, to his embarrassment, Carl realized he had not probed deeply into Chip’s background, although Chip had not volunteered anything unless prompted. The man was a shy type to be sure. “I’ve had my mind on reaching my parents’ farm. I should have asked you if there’s anywhere you’re trying to reach, anyplace where your family might be.”

  Chip scratched the back of his head. “No. I really don’t. My hometown fell to pieces. I shouldn’t go back there. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Yeah, I know something about dangerous towns,” Carl said. “What about family?”

  Chip shook his head. “No. Nobody’s out here waiting for me.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” Carl said. “Although I guess it gives you less people to worry about.” It wasn’t a sentiment Carl liked to express, but it was the truth, however grim it might be.

  Speaking of people to worry about…

  Carl spotted a line of men and women alongside the road. They were seated in folding chairs with messes of bags and suitcases all around. Carl frowned. “What’s going on here?” he asked calmly.

  “Is there a problem?” Chip asked.

  “We’re still about twenty minutes from Adam’s Point,” Carl said as he quickened his pace a little. “These look like some of the people from the town.”

  Carl slowed up as he approached the head of the line. The people seated were sweaty, their heads bowed, their breathing heavy. Carl wanted to start asking questions, but they were so tuckered out that Carl felt guilty about pressing any of them. Instead he marched farther up the road until he spotted a familiar face in one of the chairs.

  “Preston!” Carl hurried up to him. “What happened? What are these people doing out here?”

  Preston wiped his face with a towel. “Hey. Glad to see you’re back.” His latest round of coughs blocked another sentence. Carl waited until Preston cleared his throat. “Things went downhill after you left. The fire, it got much worse. It must have hit a warehouse. The dust inside combusted, blew up.” Preston coughed again. “It overwhelmed the defensive line. We had to start clearing out, fast. I think it overtaxed a lot of us, but it was flee or fry.”

  Carl nearly fell over. He was not prepared to hear such bad news.

  “So, who’s this?” Preston pointed to Carl’s new companion.

  “This is Chip Jones. I ran into him on the road. He was with another party of survivors who were attacked.” Carl backed up, turning to Chip. “Preston Wilson. He’s one of my friends.”

  “The same Preston Wilson who does those political speeches?” Chip asked.

  “Oh. A fan, huh?” Carl chuckled.

  “No, but one of my friends was,” Chip said. “I don’t really care about politics.”

  Preston wiped his face. “Yeah, I don’t think anyone does right now. Carl, Tara and the others are a little farther down the road. They’re helping with the evacuation.”

  Carl glared in the direction of Adam’s Point. More refugees were appearing on the horizon. “Thanks, Preston. Hey Chip, stick around here while I go check on the town.”

  Chapter Twelve

  With a mask fitted to his face, Carl marched past the line of refugees to the edge of the town. However, the smoke had grown much thicker since the last time he was here. As Preston had said, the fire had grown much worse since he had left to go look for his parents. Carl had to press the mask hard against his cheeks, but even with that it was clear he could not walk much farther, even if his lungs had been healthy.

  But what if someone has been left behind? Carl tried keeping an eye out as he pushed forward toward the street, but his eyes kept watering up. The sad truth was hitting him in the face; it was unlikely anyone was alive in Adam’s Point. The only options were to flee or die.

  Carl’s chest burned. He turned and jogged back in the other direction. Lorenzo and Alicia, both wearing similar masks, were just a few steps behind him. Obviously, Tara would not have allowed Carl to go into town without supervision, a thought that both comforted and annoyed him. He then chastised himself as he remembered that he was always part of a team while carrying out a mission overseas, so there was no shame in having backup.

  They’re still worried about you, Carl thought.

  Rejoining his friends, he shook his head and said, “This place is a lost cause. I can’t go on any further.” The Farrells accompanied him away from the town. Carl’s heart grew heavy as he realized a piece of his childhood was dissolving just behind him.

  The survivors of Adam’s Point continued their march down the road. Those who were too exhausted were helped along or carried. Some asked why they had to keep moving even though they had escaped the burning town.

  For one thing, they all were downwind, which was blowing the smoke of the Adam’s Point fire back onto them. They could not turn east, for the land grew more mountainous and soon would become unpassable within an hour, nor could they go west due to the heavy woods. That fed into the second reason they had to keep retreating—the fact that the edge of town lay close to the tail end of a forest. If the fire spread to the last few stores in town, the flames easily could catch onto the nearby trees and set the entire forest on fire.

  So, their only option was to march toward the junction to State Road 22. But what would they do next? No one had an answer. Their immediate concern was escape and survival. They couldn’t even grab all the supplies that they wanted before the fire started to spread.

  During the trek from Adam’s Point, Carl finally had reunited with Harold. Carl took the opportunity to take Harold to Chip, who was near the middle of the procession, to introduce the pair to each other.

  “This is Chip,” Carl said to Harold. Carl had rejoined Chip and had led him toward the head of the refugee line where he could meet more of his friends. “You might say he was a stray I found on the road.” Carl chuckled.

  Chip just shrugged and said, “Carl saved my life. I was all alone, had nothing, and didn’t think I would make it. He gave me water.”

  Harold looked down at him. “Well, you sure look as if you’ve been through hell. Good to meet you.” He extended his hand.

  Chip shook Harold’s hand, wincing. “Oh, sorry there.” Harold withdrew quickly. “Guess I do have an iron grip, don’t I?”

  Chip smiled a little crookedly. “Guess I’m not the very strong type.”

  “Chip was the only survivor of a caravan not far from here. I’m still a little worried that his attackers might show up again,” Carl said.

  “Well, with our bigger party here, we might frighten off some hooligans who take a glance at us. In any case, sir, we’re ready to protect our own. That includes you now,” he said.

  Chip nodded. “Thank you. Thank you very much.” He glanced at Carl. “So where are we going?”

  Carl eyed the survivors who were walking behind them. “We’ve got to figure that out and soon.”

  A half an hour later, Carl met up with the surviving civic leaders of Adam’s Point—two council members, the sheriff, the fire chief, and Cyrus, who had helped coordinate the relief efforts in town during the fire. It seemed fair to rely on them to make the decisions for the community. Carl’s friends gathered with him as well. The decision felt more intimidating now that about seventy people were involved. The need for a safe haven was even more urgent, since seventy people, not including Carl and his friends, would consume the remaining provisions fairly quickly.

  “East Creek’s the best shot we got,” Harold said, “It’s the closest place that might have been isolated from all the carnage we’ve seen lately, but it’s also big enough to help support this many people.”

  “Does anybody have any news from there?” Carl asked, “Anybody come into town with any word on what’s going on south
from us? Hell, any news at all?”

  The sheriff, Dwayne Arnold, replied with, “Just one man from the D.C. metro area. He said to stay the hell away from there. The communities up there went downhill quickly. He didn’t stick around very long.”

  The mention of the D.C. metro area made Carl think of his brother again. He put the thought aside, knowing he could do nothing for Andy right now. His attention had to remain on these people.

  “So, we’re going in blind.” Candace, one of the town’s council members, rubbed her nose with her forefinger. “Guess it’s better than nothing.”

  “Not quite blind.” Lorenzo held up his map. “At least we can plot ourselves a course.”

  “I thought we already did that,” Preston said.

  “Not for this many people,” Carl said. “Whatever path we take has to handle around eighty people.” Then he turned to Harold, wondering if the man would object to what Carl had to say. “We may have to stick to State Road 22 this time. If we have to cut through the woods, it’s just going to increase our chance of running into predators or someone could get lost.”

  Harold maintained a frown, but he seemed to accept Carl’s logic. Before, they had opted to use the woods to stay away from roving bands of anarchists or robbers who might be lurking on the public roads, but now it might be more dangerous to travel through the forest given this number of people.