Hope Survives

by Harley Tate

  “Mayday. Mayday. Tracy if you can hear me, we need help. Daniel’s been shot.” A rapid volley of gunfire cut off John’s plea.

  Tracy jammed the radio up to her mouth and clicked the button. “John! John can you hear me?”

  Static was the only response.

  Chapter Six

  WALTER

  Carpenter Valley Road

  North of Truckee, CA

  1:00 p.m.

  Snow blanketed the sides of the road as Brianna and Walter drove toward the Jacobson farm. Pine trees stuck up through the gray and white landscape like a thousand sentinels watching their progress in silence.

  The trek between the Clifton property and the Jacobson property wasn’t easy. Before the EMP, the easiest way would have been cruising down the mountain, hopping on I-80, and blowing right through the northern edge of Truckee before edging back up into the higher elevations.

  But that was when snowplows and salt and continuous skier traffic kept the roads clear 24/7. Now, navigating the highway was almost impossible with abandoned cars and deep, virgin snow. It left the narrow, winding roads of the northern foothills as the only option without a snowmobile. Four-wheel drive, required.

  Brianna eased the Jeep around a tight curve and climbed higher up the hill. They passed an abandoned ski lodge and Walter shook his head. “This time last year, that place would be busting from the seams with kids falling all over themselves and a million ski instructors. Now look at it.”

  The Closed sign hung lopsided off one metal hook and drifts of snow packed against the floor-to-ceiling windows. A solitary crow perched on the roof, stark black against the gray, frozen sludge. As they sped by, it took flight, keeping pace as the ski lodge disappeared in the rearview.

  Directly south of their current location sat Truckee Mountain Hospital and the only cache of medicine Walter knew of from Nevada to Sacramento. Maybe the only one in the entire state. Ben Jacobson knew the importance of the medicine—it’s why he guarded it with a rotating crew every single day. But would he see the radio broadcast as a threat or salvation?

  Walter didn’t know. He pinched his lower lip, rolling it between his index finger and thumb as a burned-out gas station came into view. A row of X’s filled each price display on the oversized sign. Black frames of soot and char highlighted the destruction of the convenience store. Even if the power did come back on, the gas station, along with so many other businesses, would never reopen.

  An old El Camino with spoke rims and a two-tone paint job sat ten yards from the burned-out store, driver’s door wide open. Snow blew across the worn leather seat, collecting against a slumped-over shape huddled against the far door. A person, or what was left of one.

  Walter twisted to stare straight ahead. Millions of Americans who managed to hang on through the summer and fall in the northern states were rewarded with a brutal winter. Higher than usual snowfall, painfully cold temperatures. Those who didn’t have the means to heat and feed themselves were surely dead by now.

  All the more reason to take the broadcast seriously. He didn’t like the tone of the so-called general’s announcement or the unsaid threat of force behind it.

  All laws were ultimately enforced by the barrel of a gun. It was something even his family didn’t truly understand before. Before the EMP, if a citizen didn’t pay yearly income taxes, one of the IRS’s two thousand special agents could come in and seize assets by force. Same with environmental violations; break a rule and an EPA officer could have shown up demanding access with a gun on his hip.

  There were over two hundred thousand non-Defense Department federal officers authorized to make arrests and carry firearms before the grid collapsed. More than the entire number of US Marines. Walter wondered how many of those officers were now wearing yellow vests emblazoned with the Unified States of America seal.

  He knew many of his fellow Marine Corps officers would balk at a supposed general of the Unified Military Force barking orders for a government they didn’t ratify. But could the same be said for the thousands of federal agents left in limbo?

  It was a question that plagued Walter from the first listen of the radio transmission up until now. Ordinarily, the longer he thought about a problem, the more sure he became about his solution. Not this time. All he knew was that the old adage applied: better safe than sorry. Convincing the Jacobsons to move the pharmacy and protect it until they learned more would be key. If Ben didn’t agree…

  “Hey, Walter?” Brianna snapped him out of his thoughts and he straightened up in the passenger seat.

  “Yes?”

  “I’ve been thinking about what Larkin said about Eugene and that colonel who took over the University of Oregon.”

  “Jarvis. What about him?”

  “What if this is the same? What if a faction of the Army has taken control of the government? They could be creating new laws and putting new people in charge and we wouldn’t have any say in it.”

  Walter nodded. “I’ve been thinking along the same lines. We have to assume the worst. If we’re wrong, that’s wonderful. But expecting these vest-wearing government workers to be benign is asking for trouble.”

  Brianna exhaled into a smile. “Good. I was worried you wanted to welcome them in.”

  Walter chuckled. “Not a chance. But I do want to tell Ben what we’ve learned.”

  Brianna stiffened and her hands tightened around the steering wheel. “Why can’t we just wait and see what happens?”

  “Because we need to prepare. Ben won’t move the pharmacy without a good reason. But we can’t leave it in town. If a bunch of men with guns show up to confiscate what’s left in Truckee, then we’ll lose everything.”

  She thought it over. “So telling Ben means we have a chance to keep the medicine safe?”

  Walter nodded. “And if need be, we can keep each other safe, too. Together we’re almost thirty strong. With the weapons we have, that’s a formidable line of defense.”

  After a few moments, Brianna conceded. “All right. I see your point, but I want to talk to Tracy and Larkin first. They might have a different opinion.”

  “Agreed.”

  Brianna slowed the Jeep as the silos for the Jacobson property came into view. She turned onto the private drive and rolled down the window before sticking her arm out to wave at Craig. He hustled from his position as a lookout for the road and unlocked the gate.

  As it swung wide, Brianna eased the Jeep forward and parked beside an old farm truck. As Walter emerged from the passenger side, a gaggle of kids ranging in age from two to ten rushed out from between two rolled bales of hay, whooping and hollering.

  A snowball flew past his face and smashed against the windshield.

  “Hey, I just cleaned that this morning!” Brianna palmed her hips in mock disapproval as a another snowball splatted in front of her feet. She laughed and scooped it up, mashing more snow around it. “Who did that? I swear I’m going to get you!” She took off, running for the kids who were now screaming in glee.

  One of the younger girls giggled and ran toward Walter, wrapping her arms around his leg and using him as a shield. He smiled. “How are you today, Lilly?”

  “I’m great! Momma said we did such a good job with chores we can take the rest of the afternoon off!”

  “Good job working so hard.”

  She beamed up at him, blue eyes bright and shining in the frosty air. “Are you here to see Daddy?”

  Walter nodded. “Do you know where he is?”

  “In the big barn. He’s cleaning rifles.” The little girl shrieked as a snowball smashed against Walter’s thigh. She took off running, blonde braids flying behind her.

  Walter stood and watched for a minute longer, enjoying the sight and sounds of childhood happiness. A sudden pang of longing hit him and he choked back a wave of emotion. This was what they were missing at the Clifton farm. The unabashed joy of children. If the country was going to survive, the Jacobson family couldn’t be the exception. It need
ed to once again be the norm.

  Walter clenched his fist. Madison, Peyton, Brianna, and Dani deserved to have this chance. They needed the Jacobson alliance more than any of them wanted to admit. He wiped his mouth and strode toward the large red barn. A faded American flag was painted above the sliding door and as Walter headed toward it, the door opened.

  Ben Jacobson emerged, wiping his bare hands on a greasy rag. Stout and burly, Ben Jacobson looked every bit the working-man in his overalls and boots. He smiled and his beard curved. “Walter Sloane. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  Walter shook the man’s hand and motioned toward the open door. “Is Tracy inside?”

  Ben shook his head. “They’re not back yet.”

  “But it’s past the shift change, isn’t it?” Walter checked his watch in alarm. Tracy and Larkin should have arrived and been fueling up with a hot meal. “Have you heard anything?”

  “Our radios don’t have that kind of range. I’m sure it’s nothing. Sometimes the boys find something on the way home and scout it out. Last week Daniel almost sent Heather into cardiac arrest when he didn’t come home by dinner. Turns out he found a stray cow and was trying to shepherd it into the back of the truck.”

  “Did it work?”

  Ben nodded. “She’s in the cattle pen now. Looks to be a good milker, too.”

  Walter exhaled and tried to slow the beating of his heart. Ben was right. There were a million reasons for the delay. He didn’t need to rush to worry. He glanced behind him, looking for Brianna. She, along with the Jacobson children, were gone.

  They couldn’t wait on Tracy and Larkin to tell Ben the truth. Despite Brianna’s reservations, Ben needed to know. Walter hoped she would accept his decision. He turned back around. “Can we talk?”

  “Sure.” Ben tucked his rag into his bib pocket. “Is there a problem?”

  “That depends on your definition of problem, I suppose.” Walter followed Ben toward the barn, rehearsing in his head how he would explain what they had heard. If Ben didn’t agree to move the pharmacy, or worse, opted to welcome the new government with open arms, Walter and the rest of the Clifton group had a decision to make. One that might not only destroy the tenuous alliance with the Jacobson clan, but start a war.

  Chapter Seven

  TRACY

  Truckee Mountain Hospital

  2:00 p.m.

  Tracy’s heart pounded against her ribs as she struggled to make a decision. They couldn’t leave John and Daniel out there to die. But the medicine could save so many more than two lives.

  Sweat broke across her upper lip, stinging her chapped skin as she licked it away. “We have to go. We have to find them.”

  Larkin glanced at the fire doors. “Will they hold?”

  “That guy slammed into them at least ten times. Unless he comes back with a battering ram, I think so.”

  “All right.” Larkin jerked his head toward the stairwell. “We’ll go out through the morgue. If we can barricade it up, we should be able to find John and Daniel and make it back before anyone breaks in.”

  “What if they need medical attention?”

  “Let’s worry about finding them first. For all we know, they’re both dead.” Larkin cut-off the conversation, turning away from Tracy as he strode toward the stairwell. He lowered into a crouch and with a grunt, pushed the metal desk blocking the door to the stairs out of the way. “We won’t be able to replace the desk, so we’ll have to figure something out downstairs.”

  Tracy nodded and followed Larkin into the darkness. As the door shut behind her, she clicked on the flashlight strapped to her rifle.

  Larkin called over his shoulder as he descended the flight. “Do you remember how to get out down here?”

  “The stairs open to a hallway, but it’s crowded. We’ll have to snake our way through to the main receiving bay and out the door.”

  “Crowded with what?”

  Bile rose up Tracy’s throat. “You’ll see.”

  Larkin stopped at the door and checked his rifle before aiming a foot on the release bar. The door swung open and he gagged. “Damn. You should pull up your shirt. It’s ripe down here.”

  “I remember.” Tracy sucked in the last breath of stale but palatable air and followed Larkin into the morgue. It was worse than she remembered.

  The desperation of that day came back with the smell. She and Brianna found the hospital, hoping beyond all hope that a rabies vaccine might still be inside. But they couldn’t reach the pharmacy and frustration, anger, and overwhelming sadness had all combined to push them forward, ignoring the reality of the situation.

  But she couldn’t avoid it now. Every sweep of her tactical flashlight illuminated another horror. Gurneys heaped with five, six, seven bodies, most rotted down to strips of tendon and bone. Body bags stuffed to the breaking point stacked one on top of each other all along the length of the hallway.

  Larkin turned to face her. “Did we have a pandemic and I missed it?”

  Tracy covered her face with her forearm to block the smell. “When the hospital’s generators failed, the critical patients would have died within hours. Truckee’s not large, but this is the nearest hospital for lots of small mountain towns. They could have had hundreds of inpatients.”

  “There’s more than a hundred bodies here.”

  “That was only the beginning. Think about all the elderly people in the area. The sick who needed monthly medicine. All the people who ran out of food or water.” She shuddered. “A coworker of mine lived in a retirement community. Within a day it was an above-ground graveyard.”

  Tracy lowered the rifle to the floor, lighting a single, filthy square of linoleum as she thought of Wanda and those early days. All the elderly people on oxygen who died when the generators failed. The thieves who took advantage before the bodies were even cold.

  Her own neighborhood had gone from quiet and peaceful to anarchy in less than a week. What was it like now? Were any of her neighbors even alive?

  “Which way?”

  Tracy shook off the past and jerked her rifle back into position. “Straight ahead. The hall opens into the receiving area. We can get out the emergency exit door beside the automatics. Those are locked.”

  Larkin turned around. The flashlight beam reflected off the floor to light his face from below like a ghost haunting the dead. “We need something to block the entrance. Make it look like no one’s been here since the hospital fell.”

  Although Tracy’s stomach heaved at the thought, she pointed at the closest gurney. “One of those should work.”

  Larkin nodded and slung his rifle over his back before tugging his shirt up over his nose. He approached the closest cart and kicked off the foot brake. As he pushed against the handle, a desiccated arm slipped off the side. Something metal clanged to the floor and Tracy bent to pick it up.

  A wedding ring.

  Solid gold with a single diamond in the center, it had symbolized someone’s love. She swallowed hard. If Walter hadn’t found them on the road to Brianna’s place, Tracy or Madison could look like that now. A pile of bones unable to hold onto what mattered.

  She set the ring on the edge of the cart and helped Larkin push it into position and lock the wheels. It wouldn’t keep someone determined out, but it might mask the way upstairs.

  Larkin stepped back and shined his light across the door. He stopped on the sign for the stairs. “We should pry that off.” He dug a multitool out of his pocket and set to work, wedging it between the sign and the wall. It popped off, leaving a jagged spot of glue on the paint. “Good enough. Let’s go.”

  Together, they made their way through the morgue and out into the bitter cold. They stopped behind an abandoned ambulance and caught their breath.

  The fresh air shocked Tracy’s senses and her eyes watered as she fumbled with her sunglasses and coat. “John was stationed in the parking deck on the other side of the hospital. We should go there first.”

  “We can scout for Daniel
on the way. He should have headed north to Emergency and around to the parking deck. If he’s not out here, then we have to hope they’re hunkered down in the deck.” Larkin brought his rifle up and held it tight against his shoulder. “I’ll lead. You see anyone, don’t hesitate to shoot.”

  Tracy frowned. They still didn’t know what happened or who the two men were or what they wanted. For all they knew, they could be innocent. Was the man who tried to break in desperate or merely opportunistic? She had no idea. But what mattered was finding Daniel and John before it was too late.

  She followed Larkin around the ambulance, staying close to the side of the building and beneath the unruly row of hedges lining the sidewalk. The front entrance loomed ahead with an oversized awning for cars to drive under and unload. No sign of Daniel or John.

  They passed the front entrance and Larkin crouched behind a cluster of small pine trees. The deck sat straight ahead.

  Three steps away from the trees, Larkin froze. He stuck up a hand and Tracy panned up. On the top level of the deck, a figure hunched behind a late-model sedan. Bushy, red hair stuck up all over on the man’s head and Tracy assumed he must be the second scout.

  Larkin brought his rifle into position and bent to take aim.

  Tracy hurried up to him. “What are you doing?”

  “What does it look like?”

  “That you’re about to shoot a man who could be completely innocent.”

  Larkin scoffed. “I’m eliminating a threat.”

  “For all we know, he’s hiding from the shooter, too.”

  “Then he should hide better.” Larkin lowered his head again.

  “We can’t just shoot him. Not until we’re sure he’s dangerous.”

  While they argued, the man shuffled back and forth behind the car, peering through the windows. Tracy hadn’t spotted a gun. “Didn’t the two scouts have rifles with scopes? If so, where is it?”