Arks of America

by D A Carey

  Raheem was mean, but he was also smart and calculating. Malcolm thought he could reason with him. It was Raheem’s kid brother Malik who was the real unstable one. Malik was rumored to be involved with some heinous crimes. Raheem planned things for the gang that kept the cash coming in and relatively few of them in jail. Malik was the crazy one in the family. He had a bit of a Scarface mindset. If any in the gang had been old enough to know the movie, they would have noticed some very similar mannerisms. With a huge scar running from his right eye to the back of his lower jaw and an eye that drooped a bit, Malik was easy to pick out in a crowd. The rumor was that it was due to a fight with another kid while in juvie. Malik was the only one still alive after the fight. He’d been a minor at the time, and the horrendous gash on his face assured him of a successful self-defense plea. That and the fact that no one since then had been willing to testify against him was why he was free today after a stay in a psychiatric facility.

  At the blockade, an argument ensued between some men from the block and some of Raheem’s men. Words turned into yells and yells into a fight. One of the neighbors was stabbed, and from reports, it sounded like Malik was the assailant. Arriving at the end of the melee, Malcom couldn’t save Mr. Stevens, but he was able to ensure that one of the gang members took some number six shot with him from his dad’s old shotgun as he left. The amount of blood he trailed proved he was hit hard and might not make it. Malcolm was relatively certain Raheem had taken some of the stray pellets as well. Although Raheem didn’t appear too much worse for the wear, that surely ended any chance at negotiation with them.

  Mr. Stevens probably wouldn’t make it to the next day, either. If he didn’t, they would have to bury him with the other two neighbors in the front yard of the vacant house on the corner. The graveyard that was a temporary solution a week ago suddenly had a more permanent appearance, which was both scary and depressing.

  After things settled down, Malcolm went home to let Ellie know he was okay and the neighborhood was safe for the moment. About that time, Ellie got a call from Vince announcing he was on his way to get them out. Her sigh of relief was more audible than she would have liked for Malcolm to hear.

  “It might take a couple of days,” Vince told her, “but I can be reached on this SAT phone number if you need me. On another note, there’s a VIP trapped in downtown Chicago that may come in on foot if you’re okay with taking in a boarder or two? It’s a favor to Uncle Dave.”

  “Um…okay,” Ellie agreed.

  “It’s a woman, Liz Pendleton, and a couple of her friends.”

  “Liz Pendleton!” Ellie exclaimed. “Kate will be so excited to meet her. Malcolm probably will as well.”

  It would definitely cause a stir on the block.

  << Liz >>

  Liz decided it was time to get out of Chicago. It wasn’t a unanimous decision. Steve Denver and some of the film crew folks were too scared to leave the hotel. They didn’t think they could make a long walk or survive in the streets below. Just getting up and down the stairs from the penthouse to the ground level was an arduous task that took them hours and several breaks in the stairwell.

  Their food supply was low, and they’d heard screams actually inside the hotel not far from Liz’s penthouse. When the security team ventured into the halls and stairwells they heard shooting in the hotel below, they could see smoke and hear shooting on the streets from Liz’s balcony. What finally convinced her it was time to go was the fact that among all the chaos, she hadn’t heard a police or ambulance siren in three days. It would be a long time before the city recovered. It may never be the same.

  The assembled people were divided into two groups. One would bunker into the condo and try to scavenge food when it was safe. Liz, her assistant Carol, Frank, and Junior would try to make it on foot to a private home eight miles away that Dave told her about via one of their rare phone calls. Dave didn’t think they could get a car downtown right now and told her it was her choice to try and make the eight-mile trek. He understood if she wanted to wait for another option.

  Liz chose to take the risk. Although she didn’t try to talk anyone else into going with her, she was glad when Frank and Junior agreed to go. This was well beyond anything they’d signed up for. She was afraid for Carol and wasn’t convinced she could make it. At the same time, she didn’t believe Carol would be any safer staying behind. Eight miles would have been a short run that she could do in a couple of hours under normal circumstances. Under the current conditions, both Frank and Junior told her that twelve hours would be more likely, assuming all went well, which by the look on their faces they were far from sure it would.

  They planned to rest well today and pack the most comfortable clothing they had and add some food and essentials. Frank went through her backpack after it was packed the same as if she was a kid going to camp. Camp Death was the thought that went through her mind as she watched him. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at those thoughts, she only knew in her heart it was the right thing to do.

  The plan was to leave at three in the morning, the idea being to get much of the trip done in the wee hours of the morning, when the criminal element was most likely to be sleeping off the alcohol or drugs that most often accompanied their rampages. With luck, they would make it to the address Dave had given her before the goons woke up.

  ***

  As Liz was preparing to leave the hotel she contacted the woman Dave Cavanaugh had told her about. It took several calls over three hours to get through the electronic congestion. She weighed delaying the trek by a day to ensure she could get through on the phone. She needed to know there was a safe place to go at the end of this trip.

  When Ellie Weathers answered on the first ring of perhaps the thirtieth attempt at calling, Liz’s relief was audible. She spoke with Ellie, relieved at the offer to open up her home to Liz and her friends.

  “Thank you for allowing us to come to your home,” Liz said. “The plan is to leave in the middle of the night and travel through the early morning hours. I don’t know when we’ll get there, but we don’t want to be mistaken as intruders when we arrive.”

  At two-thirty in the morning, Frank woke the people who were going. Liz and her team had prepared the night before and left quietly. Frank took point; Liz and Carol were in the middle, with Junior bringing up the rear. Fifty-two flights of stairs were terrible on their legs, but most of them already had experience with it and knew how to pace themselves. Despite that, they stopped several times to work out cramps in their calves. They did run into a few people in the stairwell of the hotel. Most were either sleeping off a drunk or not interested in dealing with two well-armed men.

  When they stepped out onto the street, the smell of smoke, oil, and something that smelled like burnt tar pervaded the air. Wailing and crying could be heard in the distance. Liz thought this must be what the aftermath of battle was like.

  They traveled the first few blocks without incident, stopping occasionally in an alley or behind a dumpster to recheck the map with a Magritte tactical flashlight that both men carried. Sometime after four in the morning, they ducked into an alley to check their location against the map and accidently woke a man sitting on a chair under a blanket. When he stood, it was obvious he was armed. It was when he took in a deep breath to yell for others that Frank had no choice but to silence him with a knife.

  Liz heard enough screams and shooting from the balcony that she expected violence and thought she was prepared for it. Seeing death up close and personal wasn’t like in the movies or in a book. It was sad, dirty, messy and so wasteful, a man’s life gone for no reason other than bad luck and bad decisions. Her mind was spinning with a million questions, and her stomach was turning. What if the man meant them no harm? Did he have children? Was he married? Perhaps he was only hungry. Maybe they just surprised him.

  All these thoughts only took a couple of seconds, the time it took for Frank to ease the man’s body to the ground. Even as those thoughts crossed h
er mind, Liz knew she was wrong and Frank had done what he must. It didn’t make it easier. A man was dead and her team killed him. When Carol’s shock wore off and she locked eyes with the empty, unblinking eyes of the dead man, she screamed. The stealth of the kill was undone.

  Other men and half-naked women came pouring out of the building. Frank, Junior, Carol, and Liz took off running. The crowd gave chase. Normally Junior could have outrun them all, but he was injured. Liz was fast under normal circumstances. Under these circumstances, she was afraid of losing her footing. A fall could be fatal. Carol was in full panic mode, and they fought to keep her with the group. Frank was the calmest, purposefully staying at the rear to cover them from the gunfire of the pursuing horde.

  Acting as the rear guard, he took two hits, one in the back of the thigh and another through and through on his lower right chest. Both Junior and Frank returned fire, rapidly changing magazines. Fortunately, the punks with guns were just as surprised as they were and hesitated.

  They stopped behind a dumpster to tend Frank’s wounds and be ready to return fire again if needed. Liz assumed the bullet pierced Frank’s lung when she saw the bubbled blood on his mouth. She had no idea how bad a lung wound was or if Frank could recover from it. She was sure he needed medical attention and also sure he would not get it here. Frank spat the blood into his hand, peering at the bubbles for a long moment.

  He looked into Liz’s eyes. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t finish this job. I never expected to like one of you Hollywood types, but I did.”

  “Don’t try to talk,” Liz said.

  “I’ve got about five minutes left on this Earth, Liz, fifteen at best. Maybe I’d live if I was in an operating room, but I ain’t and won’t be.” Frank coughed up more blood.

  “Save your strength, Frank. I’ll find you an ambulance if I have to steal one,” Junior implored, tears on his face.

  Frank shook his head. “Grant me one favor, Junior. Make my last mission a successful one,” he whispered, focusing directly on Junior. The blood bubbles were getting slower. “Hand me my gun. You all need to haul ass and make it out of here alive. Don’t waste my death by standing here talking till I die.”

  There wasn’t a dry eye in the group as they left. Although he was young, Junior had seen a lot of death. Brokenhearted and teary eyed, he ran through the night. Tonight, he was much older than his years.

  Not long after they left, they could hear the distinctive sound of the .45 caliber 1911 pistol barking behind them. Frank had cleared their back trail. They needed to focus on the path ahead.

  ***

  As the day was breaking, they were concerned with being spotted. They were only about a mile from their destination, which equated to about six blocks in Chicago terrain. While they were searching for a spot to rest, they were hailed from a window by a woman who was likely on drugs. The yells caught the attention of a ragged man and woman begging on the street. Carol tried to give them some food as the group walked past and was stabbed in the thigh with a broken bottle for her generosity. Junior grabbed the man who stabbed Carol from behind in a chokehold. People were screaming, and they needed to move on. Liz turned her head for only a moment, and when she looked back, Junior had plunged his battle-worn black Ka-bar knife between the man’s ribs.

  The momentary pause was broken when the woman ran off screaming at the top of her lungs, “They have food!” Other ragged figures came out of the woodwork, headed for them. Liz took charge, and they ran. They made several zigs and zags through the buildings in an attempt to lose their pursuers. Carol was sobbing and needed help from both Junior and Liz. At least she didn’t give up.

  They soon found themselves on a block with a few looted businesses and more that appeared to have been boarded up for quite some time. They made it into the back of a store that sold clothing and shoes. They did their best to clean and bandage Carol’s wound. Liz didn’t think they could make it much further in the daylight with Junior distracted by having to help carry Carol. They needed to rest, and Liz insisted they take a breather and try again later.

  Liz’s rest was filled with indecision. She didn’t know what to do. She decided to keep trying to call Ellie until she could get through. She needed someone to talk to and some advice. She finally got through and spoke to Ellie.

  “My husband knows the area well and thinks it’s too many blocks to make it through gangs and looters in the daylight. Laying low for the time being is a good idea. He may have another idea also.” Ellie passed the phone to Malcolm.

  After listening to Liz describe what she knew of her surroundings, he asked her to peek out the front of the window and find a building with a faded sign reading WEATHERS AUTO REPAIR. Liz did; it was only a few buildings down.

  “Go to the side alley. There’s a back door to the auto repair building. It was my father’s. I own it now. I’ll give you the code to the mechanical lock on the back door. I’ll come get you. It will be a few hours before I can get there, though. Watch for a red minivan. I need you all to be ready. Don’t waste any time getting in the van, though, because the junkies and gangsters will come running when they see me.”

  “We’ll be ready. How will we know when you’re coming?”

  “You may not. If we can’t get a call through, I don’t want to honk. Keep an eye out for the van. I can’t leave it to come looking for you, so you all need to be alert and ready.”

  Foxhole

  “The man of thought who will not act is ineffective; the man of action who will not think is dangerous.”

  - Richard M. Nixon

  << Vince >>

  Vince was in the lead truck when they left French Lick on Highway 56, then onto Highway 150. In normal times, they could have spent most of the route on Highway 150, which would have taken them through some medium-sized towns. The plan was to avoid population centers until they got closer to Chicago and dodge medium-sized cities if it could be done and large cities like Indianapolis at all costs. It was best to stay off the expressways while still moving as fast as they could. It was important to not move so fast they didn’t have enough time to react to obstacles in the road. They couldn’t be sure obstacles were left in the road by accident or on purpose, and either could be deadly with too much speed. While this early in the crisis Vince didn’t think the criminals and looters would have banded together yet in gangs with a plan like creating roadblocks to attack travelers, it was better to be safe and plan as if there was than expect they weren’t and be sorry.

  An old SEAL Vince worked with in Afghanistan always said, “Slow is smooth and smooth is fast.” Vince kept thinking of that during this trip.

  On the route up Highway 150 west from French Lick, the men were on alert for obvious chokepoints. All three had experience in the Middle East with the deadly results of roadside attacks. They were on guard for locations where people might try to attack or slow them down. The first obstacle Vince worried about was a bridge over the East Fork White River at Shoals, Indiana. When they approached the bridge, Vince radioed Andy and Dwight in the second vehicle to hang back in an overwatch position while Vince moved across. As soon as he made it through and determined it was safe, he radioed for them to follow him across. Since this was a very rural location, Vince didn’t think the odds of encountering an issue here was very high. However, with the way things were going and the importance of this mission, it was best to be in a high state of vigilance at all times.

  After Shoals, the next town they passed through was Loogotee, not much more than a sign on the road and a few buildings. Vince kept the two vehicles moving fast with about forty yards between them. Later in the journey, they would have to find safe spots to rest. For now, the plan was to watch for traps and chokepoints and make good time while they were in the rural areas. After Loogotee, they would take Highway 231 north through Farlen and then Bloomfield, working their way through central Indiana. Eventually the dense population areas would be harder to avoid. When that happened, they would head northeast into Chi
cago via a series of surface streets and neighborhoods. That was when the risk and danger would be at its highest.

  Even this early in the trip, the feeling was surreal. Occasionally they would pass a small town or farm where people were working and going about their business as usual. Other times they would pass people walking or biking as if time had rolled back fifty years. In areas with more businesses or denser population, they would see a burned building, car wreck, or signs of a gunfight that reminded them of a war zone. During one of the radio checks between him and Andy, Vince made the remark that the goal was not to be the source of those gunfights but to always get through before or after they happened. Having to say that grated on Vince because he was a protector by nature and wanted to help. In this case, his mission was clear. The people he needed to help were on a block in Chicago, and they needed him.

  Not all the people walking or watching them pass were victims. Some were predators. Vince knew those types would be more of a threat when they banded together and made a better plan with their roadblocks or their attacks on other survivors.

  The first time they prepared to pass under an expressway, Vince stopped them a ways back. They hiked up the embankment to assess the expressway both east and west. They could see wrecks on the road and a shantytown in the distance where it appeared as if people looted the crashed semis and then just set up camp. In an odd way, it made sense because that was where the food was and the route many people would take. They climbed back down the bank and resumed their journey, confident in the choice to avoid the expressways.

  Vince was now sure he was making this trip in the nick of time. While it was possible the government would get things back together, it didn’t make sense to wait and hope. He definitely didn’t want to gamble with his girls’ lives that way.