"I-95 goes northeast through Delaware. According to the map that smoke on the horizon over there is coming from Wilmington."
"You think we can see that far?" asked Erik. "That's what, a good 15-20 miles away."
"It's about right. That dark smudge is smoke. Something's still burning over there."
"Well I think something's burning closer to us, too." Brin sniffed the air. "You smell that? Smells like…"
"A camp fire," Erik whispered. "I don't see anything," he turned around in a slow circle looking for movement or light. As the sun's light faded to the west, he spotted a pinprick of orange light at the top of the big hill south of the interstate. "There, on top of that hill. See it?"
Ted nodded. "Well, somebody's still alive around here."
"I'll take that as a good sign," added Brin.
"Let's get to the next exit and see if we can get closer to the college, maybe find the medical center. Sound good?" Erik asked.
"Let's roll."
Ted drove them to the off-ramp and turned north onto South College Avenue, pulling away from the interstate. As they pulled underneath the overpass, they drove past few cars left like a child's discarded toys, crumpled beside the road. Ted picked his way carefully through the debris scattered across South College and accelerated north.
"Think we ought to slow down a little?" asked Erik.
"I do, but the light's fading and I don't want to turn on the headlights—they'd give away our position."
"What is that?" Erik asked, pointing at a dark outline just off the road to their right. "Is that a football stadium?"
"Looks like it.” Ted whistled. “That thing has seen better days…"
They rolled past the stadium in silence. It was surrounded by a huge number of cars, all of them burned to blackened husks. The south end of the stadium itself had collapsed as if a bomb had gone off.
Erik read the shot up and partially burned sign as they drove past the main entrance. "Stubbs Field.”
"Look," Ted said, pointing at a bed sheet, flapping in the breeze at the next entrance to the stadium complex. "Can you read that?"
Erik stared as Ted slowed the van. "I can't make it out—the lettering is blurred together, but it says something about emergency…FEMA. I think it says something about a FEMA camp."
Ted stopped the van, and they sat in silence staring at the ruined sports complex. Every building looked at least partially burned. "I wonder how many people were in there when that place went up?"
"I see a bunch of buildings of ahead,” said Erik. “I can't make out what they are, but I think we're almost there."
After passing a decent-sized train station, they continued on north and discovered immediately that someone had survived the collapse. Ted stopped the van in front of a large three story building on the right side of the road.
"A library?" Brin asked, peering at the sign by the road.
"Why would they set up a roadblock in front of the library?" asked Erik.
"Maybe they got some important books in there?" quipped Ted. "The important thing is somebody’s still alive around here. No one would bother setting up a roadblock if they didn't have something they wanted to protect."
"God, you sound like those guys that tried to attack us back in Gainesville…" muttered Brin.
"Welcome to the new world," Ted replied.
They idled the van in front of the building in silence, looking for any signs of life. "Think we can go around it? Up on the sidewalk there," Erik said pointing to the right.
"I don't think so…too many parked cars just close enough to those trees to block us."
Erik turned in his seat and peered out the darkened window to the west. "Well, there's a road right there to the left, looks like it heads west…we could take that and try to loop around?"
"It's worth a shot," agreed Ted. He put the van in reverse and slowly backed up to the intersection. "Here we go, everybody stay frosty. This could be a trap."
"We're all clear back here," reported Brin.
Ted turned at the sign for Winslow Road and drove past a two-story building that proclaimed itself to be the Newark University's visitor’s center. He stopped the van again.
"Shit. Look up there," he said pointing.
"What is it?" asked Brin from the back.
Erik sighed. "Another roadblock. The next intersection has cars blocking all four ways. Damn, we can't drive through here, either."
"I wish we still had that matvee," said Ted. "We could have rumbled through like Patton."
"It would've been nice, but those guys with the tank back near Fredericksbrg would have spotted us in that thing for sure—we never would have made it this far."
Ted grunted. "You're probably right," he admitted. He shifted back in reverse and backed down the street, turning them onto South College once again.
"Looks like our only choice is to head south, go back to that first crossroad and turn east."
The engine chose that moment to sputter and cough. "Or not…" added Erik.
"Come on," said Ted staring at the fuel gauge. "The empty light isn't even on yet!"
"The way that engine sounds, I don’t think low gas is its only problem…"
The engine sputtered and coughed one more time then died. Everyone sat in silence for a moment. The orange ‘low fuel’ light blinked on with a faint ding.
“Son of a…" growled Ted. He smacked the steering wheel with his fist. "Not cool!"
Erik looked out the passenger side window. "Well, I guess we're stuck here until we can scavenge some gas. I sure don't like sitting out here in the middle the road."
"I don't like sitting out here with this big hole in the back of the car," observed Brin as she peered out the rear window. "Anybody can just walk on up and reach in…"
"No one is going to just walk up on us," said Ted. He opened the door and slipped out. "Erik, go check out the library and see if you can get inside. I'm willing to bet a library isn't high on the list of places squatters want to go after the world goes to shit. I'll check these cars at the roadblock and see if we can get some gas. I want to stay close to the kids."
Erik sighed and opened the passenger door. "That makes sense. Your radio still got any juice? Mine’s down to one bar."
Ted ripped the radio off his chest rig. "It's got a little left. Keep it tight and only use it if you run into trouble. I don't think they’re gonna last another day." He looked around and scratched his head. "There's gotta be something in this damn town that we can use to charge these things."
"I don't see much fire damage around here…" Erik observed. "Just a few buildings a few couple blocks back and the stadium. If there's anybody here, they seem to have at least been able to take care of the place."
"Well, find out if you can see anybody. And for fuck's sake be careful."
Erik slapped his helmet, leaving the chinstrap to dangle against his neck. "Hey, it's me."
"Yeah, I know. Call me if you run into trouble. If you can't get through on the radio, fire two shots. I'll be able to figure out which direction you're coming from."
Erik shouldered his pack and picked up his rifle from the front seat. He shifted the weight on his back until it settled into the comfort zone and slung his rifle over his shoulder, bringing the weapon up and sliding the stock into the sweet spot on his shoulder.
"Okay, wish me luck. I'll be back as soon as I can."
Erik trotted off in the darkness, hoping Brin would shout about being safe. Disappointed at her silence, he moved across the sidewalk to the waist-high brick wall that surrounded the library. Seeing no movement, he quickly hopped it and crouched on the far side.
The library itself was a three-story tall brick rectangle, separated by recessed narrow windows. Megalithic in his design, the massive structure looked impenetrable. Without the windows, he could easily imagine it being a prison or fortress.
Erik jogged up the side of the building and peered through the trees across the deserted parking lot. Sati
sfied no one was out and about, he worked his way around the south side of the building. Turning the corner, he found a large open space crisscrossed with walking paths, surrounded by buildings.
The lawn was about the size of two football fields and in dire need of some landscaping. The library occupied the southwest corner of the green. To the north, he spotted a building that seemed more at home in a state capitol. It looked like a cross between Independence Hall and Monticello, sporting a bright white dome atop a solid brick structure.
How old is this place? These buildings look like they’ve been here since the 1800s.
Erik scoped out the sidewalks that crossed the open space, almost like a Roman forum. Admiring the school's landscaping, he shifted his gaze along the front of the library.
The upper floors consisted mostly of windows. He moved cautiously down the front until he stepped under the overhang and approached the main entrance. Cautiously checking each one, he found them all locked. It didn't surprise him in the least.
What did surprise him was the barricade of two white trucks and one police cruiser at the base of the curved steps leading up to the entrance. The trucks had seen battle—bullet holes stitched the hoods and all the tires had burned, leaving the chassis permanently in place at the bottom of the steps.
The police cruiser bore a Newark University campus police logo as did one of the white pickup trucks. He took another look around the open area which he began thinking of as the quad.
Scattered all around the open space and along the pathways, the trees all had orange and yellow leaves, lending a riotous color to the overgrown grass and weeds that had taken over the outdoor area. The domed structure to the north looked like it had been damaged recently. Fully one half of it looked black and charred.
Erik turned and looked back the way he'd come. Somebody went to a lot of trouble to block off that walkway.
His eyes followed the outline of the building up to the second floor, and he noticed a window open above the main entrance. It wasn't open much, but the shadow it cast against the wall in the dim light was just enough for Erik to realize the window had been left open on purpose.
"So that's how you get in and out," he muttered to himself. "Question is how to get up there?"
At first glance, looking along the rough stuccoed exterior, the walls didn't seem capable of providing hand or footholds for someone to climb up. However, as he moved closer to the northernmost door, he noticed chunks of the exterior of the building had been hacked out for someone to put a hand or foot. He stared at the indentation for a moment and then let his eyes drift up to the porch roof and saw a pattern of alternating depressions in the facade.
Sneaky. I like it.
Casting another quick glance over his shoulder to make sure no one was following him, he slung his rifle and quickly fit his boots and hands into the depressions. It should have been a simple matter to haul himself up, but his pack made him top-heavy and by the time he reached the porch roof, he was grunting with exertion.
After he caught his breath, he shouldered his rifle and moved forward, stepping carefully on the gravel-lined roof. Each footstep sounded terribly loud—he hoped no one was out there to hear him as he approached the open window.
He passed the bank of windows that had been sealed shut. He looked inside the building, but the interior was too dark to see anything.
Erik reached the open window and pried it open a little wider. It squealed in protest at being mistreated. He grimaced, then quickly slipped in through the window and dropped to a crouch inside the darkened library.
The room was silent as a tomb though surprisingly well lit. The windows on the upper floors let in a decent amount of what little light remained outside.
The air temperature was dropping rapidly outside with the setting of the sun, but inside it was at least five degrees warmer.
Erik sat still, listening. He heard absolutely nothing. The routine sounds of a building this size, with its air conditioning system, murmurs of students pouring over books, normally a center of electronics and lights…all of it was gone. It was an altogether unsettling, unnatural silence. He kept the rifle ready and thumbed off the safety.
He approached the middle of the building by walking down the length of the upper floor, carefully stopping along the way to check his progress and listen for footsteps. At the south end of the building, he leaned over the railing and took a quick glance below.
He imagined a happier time months ago when power was still available—the place would've been gloriously lit from the inside. There were a number of potted trees on the ground floor, all of which were shriveled up, stripped bare of their leaves as the water system and died without power. Their naked, dead trunks stood mute sentry over the abandoned building.
He quickly moved through the upper floor of the building, peering down row after row of neatly ordered books, stacked floor-to-ceiling along their shelves. He failed to find a single person—it was like the building had been locked up and abandoned after the collapse.
Unable to tell if he was more nervous now after knowing the upper floor was completely deserted, Erik found an emergency stairwell and opened the door, the sound echoing through the empty building. He winced, sure if anyone was inside they’d know he was there now.
After counting to 30 and not hearing anything, Erik slipped into the darkened stairwell and shut the door behind him. Surrounded by complete darkness, Erik freed a small LED flashlight clipped to his vest. The stairwell, a plain metal structure wrapping the concrete walls, led down to the second landing, and to the ground floor below.
He found no tracks, no trash, no debris—nothing. His boots rang hollow on the metal steps until he reached the second floor landing. He took a deep breath, clicked off the light, and wrapped himself in utter darkness before opening the door and quickly emerging on the second floor. Careful to not let the door slam shut behind him, he brought his rifle up to his shoulder and began the search process anew.
He stopped about midway the length of the second floor in a large section of books that contained a few comfortable reading chairs. He checked his watch.
Twenty minutes. They're going to start worrying soon. He peered out the nearest window. It's almost full dark. I’ve got to hurry this up and get back. This place looks like it'll be good shelter for the night.
Erik trotted to the south end of the second floor and looped around to the other side of the building finding more of the same. The place looked like it'd been meticulously cared for. He figured somebody would've broken in by now to at least used the books for kindling or something…maybe even toilet paper. The place protected a vast wealth of knowledge. There had to be plenty of books in here on self-sufficiency and how to construct survival tools or at least build things that might make life a little easier in a world without electricity.
Why the hell is there no one here?
Erik opened the door to the ground floor and froze. Backpacks and books lay scattered along the carpet. Someone had been here. A half-empty water bottle stood next to a pack full of books on hiking. Erik dropped to a knee and touched the water bottle. It was slightly cold. His hands went back to his rifle, and he spun in a circle, looking for a target.
Cold water. Someone's here.
As he hastily searched through the rest of the ground floor, he found more backpacks—some full of supplies, some full of batteries, and some full of packaged food. Someone—or maybe a group of people—had been scavenging vending machines and gathering supplies. Sweat trickled between his shoulder blades as he cautiously crept to the west side of the library.
He expected a mob of people to rise up and rush him to rush him around each corner. As he reached the west side of the library, he found more evidence that people had at least been through the library if not stayed: a sleeping bag neatly rolled up in the corner by an emergency exit.
What the hell is going on in this place?
He didn’t see anyone, so he walked past a section of indepen
dent study rooms, peering in through the windows to find each one deserted. More than a few of them held book bags, backpacks, purses, and piles of supplies. He didn't take the time to figure out what was in each room, but he could tell the library had been transformed into a storehouse.
Whatever was going on, it looked safe enough to bring Brin, Ted and his family to spend the night here. He reached the southwest corner of the building and peered out the closest window. He could just barely make out the roof of their van on the other side of the low brick wall surrounding the library. It was practically full dark outside.
Erik took one more glance around to make sure no one was watching before unlocking the casement window. He opened it, thankful this one didn't squeal as loud as the one on the third floor where he’d entered.
Once outside, he disengaged the swing arm on the window and closed it. If need be, assuming someone didn't lock it from the inside, they'd be able to open the window again and get back in at a moment’s notice.
Erik, looking both ways again and finding the coast still clear, dashed across the weed-infested patch of ground to the brick wall and climbed before over. His heart raced when he reached the van and found it empty. The hatch was up, both side doors were open, and all the supplies were gone. He spun around in a circle looking for someone, anyone.
"Ted!" he hissed into the darkness. "Brin?"
His radio broke squelch. "We're in the visitor’s center behind you. I wanted a backup plan," Ted's voice announced.
Erik turned and trotted across the street to where Ted was motioning to him from a window behind a large juniper shrubbery. "Hurry up," Ted whispered. "Brin spotted someone walking down the street to the south with a flashlight."
Erik pushed aside the bush and climbed in through the open window. "What about the van?"
"Nothing we can do about that," said Ted. "I've got this window—get up to the second floor and cover the street."
"Got it," Erik started to move to the stairwell, lit by a glow stick laying on the floor.
"You find anything good?"
Dux Bellorum (Future History of America Book 3) Page 24