Land of Tomorrow (Book 1): Glimmer of Hope

by Ryan King

  He turned to Joshua and motioned him forward from the rear. “Go find high ground over there and remember the signal, just like the other times. We’ll rally at the last road intersection if things go badly.” Joshua nodded without question and moved off at a run carrying the Weatherby .270 rifle, his long blond hair flying out from under a knit cap. Nathan smiled in approval. Joshua had proven steady and reliable since the incident at the shack.

  Bethany and David moved up to Nathan as he crouched near the edge of the road. They all dropped their heavy packs in a ditch and covered them with snow. Nathan quietly told them the rally point and their role in the bridge approach.

  Bethany looked worried. “I don’t like you walking up to them alone. Maybe we could go with you.”

  Nathan shook his head, “I won’t be alone, and you’ll be there and can cover me if I need help. Believe me, it’s much better this way.” He whispered in her ear, “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

  He covered the plan again while he switched weapons with David. Nathan took the shotgun and gave David his M4 assault rifle. Bethany and David crept slowly along the edge of the wood line out of sight. They would set up at a good defensive position where they could provide support to Nathan. With any luck, this would turn out as it had several times before. The men would talk, ask for something in return for crossing, and the family would make it through unscathed.

  Nathan waited in the ditch by the side of the road near their gear, giving everyone else time to move into position. He let fifteen minutes pass on his watch and then stood and walked to the middle of the road. He looked both ways, but could not see much. This section of the road was in a curve with wooded hills rising on both sides of him. He took a deep breath and stepped off.

  As he rounded the corner he noticed the tall steel structure of the bridge, arching in the middle so that the other end was obscured. He also saw several cars blocking all lanes across the bridge. Six men were visible, only one of them looking in his general direction. They were talking and laughing about something and appeared totally engrossed in doing nothing in particular. Nathan felt unusually nervous and almost slipped back into the woods out of sight, but he knew they needed to cross the river.

  He wanted to get as close as possible before the men noticed him, but he did not want to frighten them. Frightened men with guns usually shot before thinking. He walked purposefully and quickly towards the barricade. Nathan felt the presence of his family off to his left and slung the shotgun over his shoulder. It was a Remington 870 riot gun, and the weight felt awkward on just one side, but he wanted to be able to use the shotgun quickly if needed. At the same time he loosened the pistol in its holster on his hip.

  Nathan stopped about fifty feet from the road block and stood silently. He was not sure how long he waited, but patience was a trait he had learned over the years. He did not fidget or look around, simply remained still and stared calmly at the men.

  Nathan deliberately removed his hat and held it out in his left hand. Part of him wanted to rush the men now and try to kill them all unawares, but he decided to take the more cautious approach.

  After what Nathan guessed was perhaps two minutes, one of the men looked in his direction, started noticeably, and yelled out, “Holy shit!” He scrambled to pull up his rifle. The other five men turned quickly to look at him and also grab their weapons, pointing them over the parked vehicles.

  One large fellow with a beer belly yelled out, “Don’t you move mister, not a muscle, or we’ll blow your damn head off.”

  Nathan remained still and silent, which seemed to confuse the men. The big man spoke again after some hesitation, “You lay that shotgun on the ground slowly, the pistol too, partner.” Nathan hesitated a moment and then complied. He was getting an even worse feeling about this. After laying the weapons down he stood back up with both hands in the air and his hat in his hand in what he hoped was a harmless pose.

  The big man seemed to relax a little. “Now walk over here…carefully.”

  Nathan started walking and saw the men smile and start chuckling. Instead of being nervous and uncertain about his approach, they now were relaxed and eager. They obviously had something in mind for him. Nathan didn’t like that.

  He stopped walking. Big Man’s smile vanished in an instant. “You just keep on walking there friend. I don’t want to have to blow your head off before seeing what kind of goodies you brought us.”

  Nathan ignored the order. “I’m looking to cross the bridge; I’ll pay whatever toll you’re asking for.”

  The men laughed. “That’s good,” Big Man said. “Because the toll is everything you got. Afterwards we might let you go on your way.”

  Nathan smiled slightly himself, “Well in that case, I’ve obviously made a mistake, very sorry to bother you gentlemen, I’ll go back the way I came.”

  He walked backwards two steps before one of the men fired a shot which ricocheted off the road to his left surprising the other men as much as Nathan. “You move another step and you’re dead.” Big Man promised him with a shaky voice after cuffing the shooter angrily on the back of the head.

  Nathan’s heart sank. This was the dreaded scenario, but the response was already decided. There was only one way out. Nathan breathed a deep breath and then let go of the hat in his left hand.

  Before the hat hit the ground, the side of Big Man’s head exploded, followed by the sound of the rifle’s roar from the hill to the left. Nathan felt a moment of pride in his son. Joshua had always been an incredible marksman. This shot was followed by two from the M4 with David hitting another man square in the chest. Bethany also opened up with the .22 rifle. The men forgot about Nathan and dropped behind the cars to seek cover.

  Nathan knew this was his only opportunity; he certainly didn’t want to get into a shootout where his family was outgunned and without the element of surprise.

  He drew the large hunting knife out of the back of his belt and charged the cars. He was almost there before one of the men peered over a car hood with his rifle. The weapon was pointed directly at Nathan, but the man was so surprised that he froze. Nathan ran around the front of the car and jammed his knife into the man’s eye while grabbing the barrel of the rifle and yanking it away.

  He saw Big Man laying dead and another dying to one side. Two other men had not even seen him yet; they were trying to shoot back at David and Bethany from under the cars. Another did see him though, and drawing a pistol, fired at Nathan from about ten feet away. He felt the bullet graze his shoulder as he charged forward grabbing the man’s wrist and lifting the smoking pistol high. He then jammed his knife into the man’s exposed armpit.

  Both of the other men on the ground must have heard something because they turned and saw Nathan covered in blood behind them. One scrambled up and started running across the bridge, but only got about twenty feet before Joshua shot him with the rifle. The other man crawled under the car and out the other side where he was met by several carefully aimed shots from David and Bethany.

  Then the shooting stopped and silence was soothing. The men were all dead or dying.

  Nathan stopped and leaned against one of the cars after gathering up all the men's weapons. He gave his family the signal that he was okay. He almost motioned them to come out of hiding when he heard alarmed cries from across the river.

  Damn it! he thought. Why didn’t I think that there might be other men at the opposite end of the bridge? It’s what I would have done. He could hear them running and yelling as they made their way across.

  Nathan ran back to the middle of the road, grabbed his shotgun and pistol and sprinted to where David and Bethany lay. He slid in between them saying breathlessly, “Get ready, it’s not over yet.”

  Chapter 4 – Rumor Control

  Reginald Philips was not a man who sought duty or responsibility, but throughout his life he seemed to consistently find both. He was voted high school class president despite telling anyone who would listen he didn’t want the j
ob. He had grudgingly served as county judge when the incumbent died without warning, and then he was voted back into office for three subsequent terms. Reginald had even been put in charge of his neighborhood watch program, despite telling his neighbors he would not be around often enough to watch said neighborhood. He had accepted the post as Kentucky Lieutenant Governor mostly as a favor to Governor Jason Henry, his old college roommate.

  Reggie was told he simply carried an air of purpose and quiet dignity about him that people admired without feeling threatened. Right now he wished he did not have any of those qualities.

  He paused in front of the mirror and continued to knot his tie. A tall, gaunt figure with grey hair and wrinkles stared back at him. Many would say he was ridiculous for putting on a suit and tie; that such trappings were now out of place. Reggie could not disagree more; he believed appearances were even more vital now.

  He also knew people were desperate for any type of information, and without it they would believe anything, no matter how outlandish. This was the main reason he agreed to the weekly radio broadcasts in the first place. They were initially a simple means of putting out information, but they had since turned into one of the most anticipated events of the week. Reggie became the public voice of the Jackson Purchase; even though he wasn’t really officially in charge of anything. Heck, no one is, he thought.

  The Jackson Purchase as a geographic area was an anomaly. It was composed of the extreme western part of Kentucky bounded on the west by the Mississippi River, on the north by the Ohio River, on the east by the Cumberland River, and on the south by the Tennessee state line. The region was technically part of the state of Kentucky when it was organized in 1792, but in practicality remained under Indian control for many years. Only in 1818, when Andrew Jackson and Isaac Shelby purchased the area from the Chickasaw Indians, did it really open for settlement and development. For nearly two hundred years the name ‘Jackson Purchase’ was no more than quaint tradition and history, of no real significance. That all changed with Nuke Day or N-Day for short.

  Reggie made his way down the stairs and out the front door of his father’s old house after giving his wife Janice a quick kiss. He rode towards the radio station on the ancient three-speed bike he resurrected from the garage. It had needed some oil on the chain and air in the tires, but otherwise was in decent condition.

  The town of Murray was mostly quiet, which he thought of as a good thing. The people he passed waved back to him readily enough. Armageddon is no excuse not to be neighborly, he thought.

  At the WKPO station, he entered the front door and walked back to the control booth where Tim was setting up for the broadcast.

  “Hey, Reggie, you ready?” Tim asked.

  “I believe so. Same as usual?” responded Reggie.

  “Yes, I’ll introduce the show, then you, then allow you to put out general information,” Tim explained. “Based on available time, I’ll ask you some of the more popular questions that people have requested we bring up. Here’s a list of what we’ve got.” Tim handed Reggie a sheet of lined notebook paper with all too familiar topics written down. “We’ve got about six minutes before air time. I’ll signal you one minute out.”

  Reggie scanned the topics and was not surprised by anything on the page. People wanted to know exactly what had happened and why. They wanted to know who was responsible and who was to blame. They also wanted to know when this would be over and they could go back to their normal lives. Reggie had held off as long as he could, but he was afraid it was time to wake everyone up for their own sakes. It had been over three months since N-Day, and society had not yet fallen apart, at least not in the Jackson Purchase. Reggie suspected things would eventually get much worse.

  Tim signaled him from the booth and Reggie moved to sit next to him. Reggie put on the headphones and pulled his own sheet of paper from his jacket pocket.

  The clock on the wall was right at noon when Tim flipped several switches and a light on the wall went from red to green.

  “Good afternoon friends and neighbors. This is Tim Reynolds of WKPO and you have tuned into our weekly discussion with Lieutenant Governor Reggie Philips where he talks about the issues that are important to you. Good afternoon, sir.”

  “Good afternoon, Tim, it’s good to be here and thanks for inviting me back.”

  “My pleasure, would you like to talk about a few of the topics that have come up at the latest Jackson Purchase County Cooperation Council?”

  “I certainly would, thank you. For those of you who do not know, this council is made up of all the county executives and mayors from within the Jackson Purchase area. They all work together to cooperate on our common interests and I can frankly tell you this initiative has been a grand success so far.” Reggie thought it best not to talk about the fistfight between two of the county executives that occurred at the last meeting.

  “Let me go over a few of the key issues decided,” Reggie continued. “First, the moratorium on the use of fuel remains in effect. No consumption of gasoline, diesel, natural gas, or kerosene is allowed without authorization until further notice. Any violators will have their supplies confiscated.”

  Tim raised his hand and Reggie nodded, “Reggie, why is this such an important issue, I mean won’t we get more fuel soon enough?” Reggie gave Tim a smile and a thumbs’ up gesture.

  “Actually we have no idea when we will ever get more fuel. We have every resource we need to survive for a long period of time, but the fuel we currently possess may be all we have. Eventually horse and manpower might replace gas engines, but we’re not ready for that yet and we’re going to need all the fuel for this coming year’s planting and harvesting. We also need the fuel for emergency and essential vehicles. We’ve been fortunate that we’re going through a mild winter and spring should come early. Electricity and wood will have to fulfill our heating needs for now.”

  Reggie was off his agenda, but went with the flow anyway, “I also want to remind everyone that electricity and water will not be a concern due to the continued operation of the TVA hydroelectric dam at Grand Rivers. The hours of electricity and public water operation are still limited to six hours per region each day.” Although he had explained the rationale for this move many times, he decided to cover it again because people were always upset by the rationing. “The reason we have applied these limitations is in order to minimize wear and tear on electrical equipment and the dam turbines. Currently we only operate one third of the turbines at any one time.”

  Reggie paused remembering an argument he'd had yesterday with an irate citizen over the limitations. “Folks, we don’t know when, if ever, things will get back to normal, and we need to conserve and take care of the resources we have. Need I remind you of the horror stories we’ve heard about in other places? There are people out there starving and freezing and dying of sickness and violence. I think we’ve got it pretty good all things considered.”

  “Indeed we do, Mr. Lieutenant Governor” said Tim with a slight raise of his eyebrows, “Perhaps we should move on.”

  “Right you are Tim, thank you. I want to remind everyone also of the importance of fulfilling your responsibility by paying the levied taxes. Again the preferred means of payment is a gallon of fuel per family per month, but other items can be substituted in lieu of fuel if necessary such as batteries, light bulbs, medicine, salt, canned goods, harvested food, or farm animals. I would also ask families that are better off to help their neighbors if there is a need. We don’t have the resources to tax according to people’s prosperity at this time.” Reggie decided to hold off on mentioning the threat of seizure by force that the committee was considering. Let everyone think cooperation was universal, and maybe it would be.

  “Also, please cooperate with all Kentucky State Police and National Guard forces you encounter as they are here to protect you. General Anderson has assured me that the Jackson Purchase borders are secure as per the FEMA plan, and he asks that everyone practice patience and
understanding under such trying times.”

  Tim raised his hand again and Reggie nodded, “What about those borders? A lot of listeners want to know about freedom of movement.”

  Reggie rubbed his hands together and continued on, “Let me assure everyone that the purpose of the closed border is to protect the people of the Jackson Purchase. Anyone who wishes to depart may, but I would strongly advise against it since things appear pretty nasty in certain places. Additionally, we are fortunate enough to be in a belt not affected much by any of the radiation fallout, but we can’t vouch for any other areas. I want to remind everyone to continue to practice caution in that regard and stay indoors during cloudy or rainy weather to avoid potential radiation exposure. Also filter any non-bottled, or non-well, water through six to eight inches of uncontaminated soil.”

  “What about other people wanting to get into the Jackson Purchase, such as relatives or friends?” Tim asked with some intensity.

  “Well, we have decided for the time being to be very judicious in that regard. It sounds harsh, but we have to take care of the people here first. Anyone who possesses a valid driver’s license or other proof of residence, from one of the eight counties of the Jackson Purchase will be admitted in. All others’ entry will be reviewed by the on-site border crossing commander.”

  “Can you talk about the food situation?” asked Tim.

  “Certainly,” said Reggie. “We estimate that supplies are enough to get us through the next planting and harvest as long as we’re smart and don’t waste anything. With that said, I want to remind everyone not to throw away any old fruits or vegetables even if they appear to have gone bad. Plant these in gardens in your yards and they may grow. This is especially true for potatoes. Cut them up into as many small pieces as you can and plant them. Each eye can produce a plant which could grow as many as eight or more potatoes. Everyone needs to start planting, not just the farmers.”