by Bobby Akart
“Good,” added the President. “Tell me you have found some options.”
“Of course, we’re still in the middle of our analysis, but if I may use the Rocky Mountain states, which I know so well, as an example, I can—”
“Use Colorado, please,” interrupted the President.
“Yes, Mr. President. That’s an excellent choice. If we take into consideration the ski resort towns like Aspen, Vail, Breckenridge, and Gunnison, we could house as many as seventy thousand refugees in those four towns alone.”
“Do they fit the criteria?” asked Morse.
“In fact, they’re better than ideal, depending upon their current circumstances regarding the disease and death tolls.”
The President was intrigued. If his Interior Secretary was right, Colorado would become the model for the rest of the nation. The government could continue to operate within the safe confines of Cheyenne and he could show the American public there was a hope for a future.
President Garcia looked at Morse and smiled. “Lay it out for us, Rhonda.” The President leaned back in his chair and clasped his fingers behind his head as Secretary Ryan continued with her proposal.
“Here is why the resort towns of Colorado, and any resort destination, are ideal candidates for what we have in mind. Whether the destination is a winter locale like Aspen, or a summer destination along the lines of Galveston, Texas, the population swings vary with the season. Aspen has to be geared up to handle ten times more visitors in the wintertime than their normal population of roughly five thousand. In the summer, when skiing is not an option, the thousands of hotel rooms and condos remain unoccupied. However, the infrastructure of the town must accommodate the high temporary population levels during the so-called tourist season. Each of these communities have law enforcement, medical facilities, and utilities to accommodate a small city of over twenty thousand, despite their full-time population of five thousand or less.
“Beach and coastal communities are similar. Whether it’s Galveston Beach or Myrtle Beach in South Carolina, the hotels stand relatively empty in the winter and are full in the summer. Using these criteria, we could start the rebuilding effort by creating larger safe zones in these resort communities where temporary housing, such as hotels and condos, are abundant.”
The DHS Secretary added, “And, if properly selected, our military personnel could provide adequate protection against those who are carrying the disease and the roving gangs that have developed around the country.”
“Gangs?” asked the President.
“Yes, sir,” the DHS Secretary replied. “The criminal element will always find a way to exploit a weakness in our law enforcement structure. As society collapsed, criminals and the desperate formed alliances—roving gangs—to move across the countryside. Some simply scavenge for food and supplies together with a safe place to ride out the pandemic storm. Others take it to another level of human depravity, which is sickening.”
“Can’t something be done about this?” asked the President.
“Of course, given time,” replied the DHS Secretary. “We’ve adopted an approach that protects our personnel until the rebuilding effort is ready. As much as I’d like to unleash the power of our military onto American soil to combat these thugs, I verily believe we can do more good for survivors by following through with the safe-zone plan first. Then we’ll hunt down the criminals.”
Morse leaned forward. He’d been fairly quiet during the conversation, taking in the recommendations of these cabinet members. President Garcia knew his friend well. Andrew was processing the information and formulating a policy.
“We need to be methodical about this, Mr. President,” Morse cautioned. “May I suggest we choose one of our best options, the closest to home? Cheyenne Mountain, that is. Madame Secretary, which resort town would you suggest?”
“Breckenridge is the closest,” she replied. “It fits all the criteria and our flyover indicated perimeter security is in place.”
“However, they’ve endured a major wildfire,” interrupted the DHS Secretary.
“What?” asked the President.
“Sir, our reconnaissance revealed that a major wildfire scorched a couple of thousand acres stretching along the east side of the town across three mountain ridges. It must have been a tremendous blaze. I had the NSA pull satellite footage of the area and we watched it. It took a monumental effort, but the town pulled together to extinguish the flames.”
“Air support?” asked the President.
“No, sir. Their local fire department is too small to have their own air tanker like the Lockheed P2V. They did it the old-fashioned way, it appears, using firebreaks, clearing the deadfall that fuels the fire, and constant monitoring of flare-ups.”
“Wow,” exclaimed the President. He stood up to stretch his legs. He wandered around the conference table and observed the activity on the operations center floor. “Resilient. The community pulled together to protect themselves and never asked anyone for help.”
“Yes, sir,” added the DHS Secretary.
“What’s the first step, assuming Breckenridge is our best option at the moment?” asked the President, looking toward the Interior Secretary.
“Sir, if I may?” asked the Secretary of DHS.
The President nodded.
“We’ve already surveyed the area with a Chinook. As we’ve said, the locals appear to have instituted roadblocks at all inbound roadways, which is a good sign. But we can’t know for certain whether the town is clean, so to speak, until we send in a contingent to inspect conditions on the ground.”
“How many personnel would you use?” asked Morse.
“For the protection of our troops, I’d suggest two platoons to enter on both sides of the town simultaneously. We don’t want to frighten the residents, but we must have a show of force.”
“Why’s that?” asked the President.
“I’ll tell you why,” started Morse, whose tone disturbed President Garcia. “Because the locals might say thanks, but no thanks.”
Chapter 16
Day Eighty-Three
Noah’s Ark
Boreas Pass at Red Mountain
Rulon Snow wasn’t in a hurry to receive Sheriff Andrews and his ragtag group of temporary deputies who awaited him at the front gate of the compound. He knew why they were there and no amount of threats or flashing of Summit County sheriff’s badges were going to result in his turning over of his two beloved, albeit mischievous, sons.
If the sheriff planned on using force to take his boys into custody, he’d be in for a rude awakening. Since the truce had been reached between the sheriff and Snow, his compound had grown considerably. The young men in their late teens he’d lured to become part of his flock had grown up and were fiercely loyal to Snow.
They’d been well trained in the use of firearms, alternative weapons, and hand-to-hand combat. The young men had fully adopted the Fundamental Church of Latter Day Saints ideology, and while he wasn’t sure they’d take a bullet for him, he was certain they’d defend their home when the time came. As he ambled up to the gate and saw that Sheriff Andrews and his men had not drawn their weapons, he knew the time was not today.
“Hello, Sheriff, how may I help you today?” asked Snow.
“Rulon,” started Sheriff Andrews, who incorrectly voiced Snow’s name as ru-lon. This had infuriated Snow in the past, but he didn’t correct the sheriff, instead opting to allow the mispronunciation to fuel his resentment against all forms of law enforcement. He would never forgive those federal prosecutors in Salt Lake City for bullying him into that plea deal, despite the fact that it resulted in a far better life for him than he would’ve endured on the FDLS compounds that remained under constant scrutiny back home.
Sheriff Andrews said, “I’d like your permission to speak with a couple of your boys.”
“Which ones, and why?” asked Snow.
“Seth and Levi,” replied Sheriff Andrews. “We’ve had a serious situation a
rise and I’d like to ask them about their possible involvement.”
“Now, Sheriff, if you’re referring to those fires, I can assure you the boys don’t play with matches. The fires were probably started by a careless camper, or even one of your own trying to cook out when they shouldn’t be.”
“Rulon, I don’t need to explain my reasons. This is a law enforcement investigation. Because of their past history of run-ins with the law, we can take them in. I wanted to give you the opportunity to produce them and spare the embarrassment for the boys.”
Snow bit his tongue. You pick and choose your battles, so he lied. “The boys aren’t here, Sheriff. They went with their older brothers to the Mission in Colorado Springs to purchase supplies. We take care of our own, you know.”
“When will they be back, Rulon?” asked the sheriff, who appeared disgusted with Snow’s response.
“As you know, Sheriff, the apocalypse is upon us and these brave young men have left the safety of our compound to help me tend the flock. When they return, I’ll speak with them, but as far as I know, they’ve been good boys and haven’t left the compound since you brought them back that day.”
“Rulon, I’m serious about this. One or more arsonists burned most of Bald Mountain and quite a bit of Mount Argentine. You can smell the fire from here. If they had something to do with it, they need to be punished.”
Snow looked down and began to chuckle as he kicked a few rocks at his feet. “Sheriff, you and I have a pretty good agreement that has served us well for years. So far, we’ve managed to live up to our end, as I appreciate you living up to yours. I know the boys can be badly behaved at times. Heck, they’re young teens. Now, I punished them for looking upon that shameless hussy lying nude in public, as I’m sure her husband punished her for tempting my boys’ tender curiosity.”
“Rulon, I’m serious—” started Sheriff Andrews before being interrupted by Snow.
“However, Sheriff, you’ve got no cause to accuse them of arson. Nor do you have any proof. I’m sorry, but if you want to speak to my sons when they return from the city, you’ll have to have a court order or warrant. Unfortunately, I’ve learned how the legal system works and I must insist upon the proper documentation.”
“Come on, Rulon. You know the courts aren’t operating. Heck, we don’t even have a judge anymore.”
“Well, perhaps you should come on back when you get one. We’ll have to speak on this at another time.”
Snow spun away from the gate. Without ordering them to, the guards immediately slid the gates shut and lowered the four-by-eight rough-sawn post, which slid into cast-iron rungs. The gate protected the Snow compound from intruders, and justice.
*****
High above Noah’s Ark, perched on a bluff jutting out of Red Mountain like a couple of gargoyles, Seth and Levi took turns spying on the confrontation through their binoculars.
“Whadya reckon they want, Seth?” asked Levi.
“You and me, probably.”
“Are we gonna be in trouble,” asked Levi nervously.
Seth, the alpha dog in this pack of two, had studied the body language of the sheriff and his men after the guards locked the gate. Seth’s instincts told him the sheriff was frustrated and defeated.
“They won’t be back. Looks like whatever the prophet said caused them to leave. We might oughta slip back into the mine before he finds out we snuck out. I can bribe our way out until the prophet forgives us for what we done, but he might get doubly mad if he knew you and I were sneaking off without his permission.”
“How much longer you reckon he’s gonna punish us?” Levi asked.
Seth shrugged and hoisted himself out of his crouch. He was about to slip the binoculars into his backpack when he decided to look toward the setting sun over Quandary Peak. He gazed upon the desolate beauty over the snowcapped peak, and then he slowly lowered the glasses down toward the checkpoint where Janie and Derek were standing watch.
“Hopefully, not much longer, brother. I’m gettin’ bored.”
Chapter 17
Day Eighty-Four
The Quarantine House
Quandary Peak
For two days, Tommy had been an exemplary patient, heeding Mac’s warnings about trying to recover too quickly. At this stage, a relapse into a bout with the plague was not of any concern. But Tommy’s body had been brutally attacked from within. Sepsis and pneumonia were both dangerous illnesses that required constant monitoring. Now that he and Flatus were no longer infected with the plague bacterium, they were ready to return home for further rehab.
Janie suited up and prepared Flatus for release from the quarantine house. Although Flatus was weak, he was recovering faster than Tommy. Janie attributed the speedy recovery to the fact he’d been infected later than Tommy was and the difference the high altitude made on the dog’s heart rate. Mac confirmed this over the last two days as she tested the deer mice subjects. The quick recovery in the rodents was remarkable.
Janie took him into the master bathroom, which had effectively doubled as a decontamination chamber. He stood patiently as she scrubbed him down with a medicated pet shampoo purchased by Hunter and Mac on their trip into town several weeks ago. With a good rinse, Flatus shook off the excess water and eagerly moved into the screened porch. Janie followed her normal routine and finally let Flatus into the fresh air.
He was beside himself. He’d run as fast as he could in one direction, stop to look around, and then run in another. Flatus spied a patch of tall fescue and raced to it, sliding to a stop on the moist blades. He rolled around, kicking his legs in the air. Flatus was one happy pup.
“Flatus, seriously. You need to relax,” shouted Janie. She turned her attention back to the house, where Tommy was standing in the window, watching the spectacle.
“You ain’t seen nuthin’ yet, young lady!” shouted Tommy. “I’m gonna do the same thing, in my birthday suit!”
“No, you will not, husband,” said Barb as she playfully grabbed his hair and gently tugged him away from the window. “The only time you’re going to be naked is while I wash you in the tub. There are a lot of germs and bacteria to scrub off you, mister.”
Barb led Tommy by the arm toward the bathroom. She guided him to the toilet seat and propped him against the tank while she ran the bath. As she got it ready, she double-checked that his clean clothes were set in the screened room. Tommy had lost a lot of weight. His favorite Army sweats would fall off him now. Hunter had offered some of his clothes as a replacement.
“Barb,” started Tommy with a serious tone, “when will I be out of the woods? I mean with the sepsis.”
“We need to give you another week or so to declare total victory over the plague and its minions, sepsis and pneumonia. Honestly, without full medical treatment and the ability to look inside you, we’re working in the dark here. Your recovery will require very careful monitoring, but each day that passes gets us a step closer.”
“Should I go to a hospital?”
“I’ve talked with Doc about that. The hospital has all of the necessary equipment, but it’s not fully functional due to lack of personnel. The vast majority of full-time health care workers lived in Dillon, which is outside the town’s protective perimeter. Sheriff Andrews tried to get a cooperation agreement with Dillon, but it was a no-go. They’re very protective of their own town’s borders and the specialists from every profession that reside there.”
The water was ready and she helped Tommy get undressed. Barb was shocked at his condition. He’d lost at least thirty pounds in the last two weeks. She made a mental note to keep him on a bland, high-calorie diet with a focus on carbohydrates and fats. While protein was essential to build and repair muscle tissue, it could be difficult on the kidneys to process.
Tommy slid into the tub of warm water and a few tears appeared on his cheeks as he studied his emaciated body. “I almost died, Barb. You guys saved me, but what’s left to save? Skin and bones?”
She gently
sponged him off and washed any plague remnants off her husband’s body. Periodically, she’d allow some warm water to stream into the tub, which she’d use to rinse him.
“Dear, you see skin and bones and I see the man of my dreams from forty years ago when we first met. I see a loving husband that I took for granted far too often and wept over night after night the last two weeks while you were on the brink of death. I see a loving father who adores our daughter. I see my best friend, and he’s alive, skin, bones, and a heart of gold.”
Chapter 18
Day Eighty-Four
Quandary Peak
Hunter came to the quarantine house to assist in transporting Tommy home. Tommy was too weak to walk long distances, so Hunter picked him up, carried him to the Defender and drove him up Blue Lakes Road.
Hunter had a full morning of chainsaw work to make a path for the vehicle to pass. He’d created a trail around the barricade he’d created for security purposes. The four-wheeler loaned to them by Doc Cooley could navigate through the woods, but the path was too precarious to risk transporting Tommy. Hunter cut up the trees and said he’d find a way to recreate the road blockage later. For now, it was time to celebrate Flatus and Tommy’s return.
“I’d prefer a glass of that vino, but this chocolate shake is pretty good,” said Tommy as everyone finished toasting his return. He sat in a leather chair near the fire with a hand-crocheted blanket they’d kept at the house for years.
“I bought the shake powder on one of my runs to Costco,” started Hunter. “It’s made by a company called Optimum Nutrition. While I never anticipated this use, I thought it would be an excellent way to provide us replacement meals full of vitamins, carbs, and protein.”
“Well, I’ll have no problem packing on the pounds with this stuff,” said Tommy as he enjoyed another sip.