by Alex Gunwick
“How long will it be closed?” Luke asked.
“Indefinitely.”
“I’m trying to get home to my family in Orange County,” Luke said.
“The 99’s still open as far as I know. You could try it. But it might be closed off too.”
“Can you radio someone and ask?”
“No. Radio communication is strictly emergency only right now,” Franklin said.
“This is an emergency. I need to get to my family.”
“I understand,” Franklin said in a placating tone. “But I can’t help you. Take 99 south and see if you can get closer. I doubt they’re letting anyone through LA right now. You may want to find a hotel until the roads are open again.”
Luke nodded and put the truck in reverse. Intellectually he understood their inability to help him, but emotionally, he wanted to grab their batons and beat the crap out of them until they radioed over to find out if 99 was open.
He drove away before he could enact his violent impulses.
A mile down the road, he pulled over. He took his map out and began searching for an alternate route. He didn’t want to drive fifty miles across to Highway 99. If it was closed, he’d lose a total of a hundred miles backtracking.
With his finger on the map, he drew multiple lines until he found an acceptable path. He could take back roads to cut around the south end of Los Banos and try Highway 33 south. It ran mostly parallel to Highway 5 so it wouldn’t put him too far off track. He folded the map and set it on the seat next to him.
After pulling an illegal U-turn, he headed back toward the cutoff to Highway 33. One mile bled into the next as he headed south. He kept an eye on the gas tank gauge. The next big town was Coalinga, about sixty-five miles away. He’d stop there for gas. Running out of gas in the middle of nowhere was the last thing he needed.
With nothing to distract him, his thoughts turned to his family. By now, they had to be at the cabin. Liz was probably worried sick about him. He would have given anything to get one damn phone call through to her. Hearing her voice again would be enough to get him through any obstacle in his path.
They’d been through hard times during his deployments. He’d been in situations in which he couldn’t have any communication with his family for weeks at a time. She’d stood by him even though she’d later confessed she’d been terrified he wouldn’t come home. But he’d always come home.
In the worst sandbox dump in the worst mountains of Afghanistan, he’d used his family to get through blistery hot days and freezing nights. He’d pictured her face before every mission, silently vowing he’d stay in one piece so he could return home to the woman who kept his soul alive.
He swallowed against the swelling in his throat. The only time he ever got close to breaking was when he pictured his family without him. He shoved the image aside and replaced it with a mental picture of his kids. He was so proud of Sierra. She’d graduated in the top of her class in high school and now she wanted to be a scientist. Although his adorable little girl had grown into a smart young woman, she’d always be his little pumpkin.
And Kyle, a mini replica of him, was growing up too. He’d entered the terrible teens with a vengeance. He’d tried Luke’s patience more than once, but his son had a good heart. Kyle was just acting out the way all teenagers did. Hopefully he wasn’t giving his mom a hard time.
Luke sighed.
“I’m coming, guys. Just hang on. I’ll be there soon,” he said.
He gripped the steering wheel and squinted against the sunlight. It wasn’t even noon yet, but the temperature was spiking higher by the minute. He turned on the AC. It spit warm air into the cabin. He waited several minutes before giving up. Apparently the thugs hadn’t changed their refrigerant. Ever.
“Assholes,” he muttered.
Maybe he could do something about it in Coalinga.
Twenty-five miles north of his target, Highway 33 merged back onto Highway 5. The onramp was blocked by highway patrol. Luke didn’t bother stopping. He used South Derrick Avenue to connect back onto Highway 33 fifteen miles south.
Ten miles later, he approached Coalinga. He pulled up to the first streetlight. It was out. Not even flashing. Weird.
He continued down the road toward the center of town. The electric signal at the second intersection was also out. He frowned and turned into a gas station. All of the electronic displays on the gas pumps were dark. A small snack shop attached to the gas station was also dark.
Movement in the store caught his attention. He stuffed his gun in his waistband and approached the front door.
Liz gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled hands. As she turned onto El Toro Road, a black BMW blew through the red light in the opposite direction. She slammed on the brakes and skidded out of the reckless driver’s way. The other car narrowly missed her before smashing into a light pole. She glanced in the rearview mirror. Normally she would have stopped, but since they’d left their home, people had been driving like it was Saturday night on a holiday weekend.
“That guy almost hit us,” Kyle said as he turned to look behind them.
“I know.”
“The cops just pulled up. That was fast.”
“There’s a sheriff’s station up the road. They were probably headed to work,” she said.
“Probably. People are driving psycho. Are we almost there?” Kyle asked.
In any other circumstance, she would have rolled her eyes, but not today.
“We’re about ten minutes to the cutoff,” she said.
As they approached Cook’s Corner, her stomach rumbled. The scent of greasy French fries and mouthwatering cheeseburgers wafted out of the old-fashioned roadhouse.
In a small parking lot out front, men in motorcycle leathers stood around in groups. They stared at the truck as she drove past. Normally they’d be so engrossed in admiring each other’s bikes that a stampede of elephants could pound by without garnering a second glance. The last few days were anything but typical.
She would have given anything to be able to stop for a basket of chili cheese fries. Diet be damned. As far as she was concerned, calories didn’t count when all hell was breaking loose.
“Why aren’t they at home?” Kyle asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe they’ve got nowhere else to go.”
“Everyone has somewhere to go,” he said.
She couldn’t begin to speculate on their lack of activity and didn’t want to get into a debate.
The two-lane road twisted up into the hills. As they passed a neighborhood of million-dollar homes, she noted armed guards standing outside the gate. Interesting. Maybe they’d had a contingency plan in case something like this happened.
“Do you think Dad’s okay?” Kyle asked.
“I hope so. If anyone can make it through this, it’s your dad.”
“What about Sierra?” he asked.
“She’s probably at the cabin already.”
“How long are we going to have to stay there?”
“At least a few weeks. Maybe longer. It depends on a lot of things. The weather. The state of the world. How many supplies we have at the cabin. We’ll know more when we get there.”
“Can we listen to the radio?”
“Sure.”
She turned on the car’s radio. Static crackled through the speakers. After turning down the volume to a more manageable level, she searched through the FM channels.
“Hmm. Nothing’s coming through,” she said.
“Maybe we can find some news.” He hit a button to change to AM stations. After scrolling through several stations, a weak signal broadcast an emergency broadcast message. “Nothing new there.”
“Keep searching.”
He cycled through more AM news channels. Several played the emergency broadcast message on repeat. Only one seemed to be broadcasting live.
“An executive order from the President of the United States has restricted gas sales to police and military personnel only. If y
ou’re heading out to get gas, turn around and head home. Residents in the vicinity of Los Angeles, San Francisco, New York, Miami, Chicago, Philadelphia, and Houston are advised to stay inside.
“Nuclear fallout will continue to be radioactive for several weeks. Stay inside. A basement or storm shelter is the best option. If you can’t go underground, try to get nine floors above ground level. Close your windows. Do not go outside. Exposure to high amounts of radiation is deadly. Stay safe, and God bless you.”
She switched off the radio. Shock made her fingers tingle and her toes lose sensation. At least eight cities had been bombed. Eight! This wasn’t an isolated incident. It wasn’t just the West Coast. The entire country was under attack.
Sweat broke out on her forehead. She wiped it away with the back of her trembling hand.
“Are you okay, Mom?”
“Yes.”
She had to remain calm for his sake. They were following the bug out plan. They’d make it to the cabin safely, and Luke and Sierra would meet them there. It would all work out. She had to stay positive. There was zero evidence that either Luke or Sierra were dead. If she gave in to fear now, she’d have a long road ahead of her.
The turnoff to Silverado Canyon appeared. She took a right at the road and within a minute passed a church. The parking lot was packed with cars and people. A large barbecue sent billowing smoke into the air. A man in an apron flipped burgers as they passed.
She continued down the road toward the Silverado Café. Its old-time Western façade and dirt parking lot was a nod to simpler times when you could head over after church and whittle away a Sunday afternoon amongst friends. Their cinnamon rolls were to die for. Her saliva glands clenched as moisture flooded her mouth. As soon as they got to the cabin, she’d make dinner.
Light faded faster in the canyons. Long, deep shadows stretched across the road. Old, gnarled oaks rose up on either side of the road, helping to hide country-style homes tucked into the hillside.
Up ahead, a handful of trucks barricaded the two-lane road. Five men in military-style gear held rifles or shotguns at their sides. Two more men sat on the tailgate of a pickup. They all turned toward her as she approached. The men in the truck scrambled to grab their rifles.
“What the hell?” she muttered.
She slowed to five miles an hour. Without making any sudden movements, she reached for the pistol at her side. After carefully moving it into her lap, she pulled her shirt out of her pants and draped it over the gun.
“Don’t say a word,” she told Kyle. “Let me do all the talking.”
“Okay.” He nodded, eyes wide.
As she pulled to a stop five yards before the barricade, two of the men strode toward her. She rolled down the window.
“Put your hands up where we can see ‘em,” the guy with the shotgun said. Dressed in green and tan camo, the man could have stood on the side of the road and had no problem blending into the tree line.
She did as instructed.
“State your business,” he said.
“We’re headed up to our house.” She opted to keep her explanation simple. Without knowing their purpose for barricading the road, she wasn’t sure which line to take with them.
“Where do you live?”
“Up the mountain.” For OPSEC reasons, she didn’t give the exact location. She didn’t want visitors later.
“I’ve never seen you here before,” the man said. “You have any proof you live up there? Driver’s license?”
“Yes.”
As she leaned over to grab her purse, the man stepped back and brought his gun up.
“Slow down there,” he said. “Nice and slow.”
She frowned as she pulled her purse into her lap. Her driver’s license listed the address of the property they owned. Luke had insisted they each carry an ID with a different address in case they ever needed it. The canyons were prone to wildfires and the fire department wouldn’t let non-residents past roadblocks in an evacuation situation. She’d thought he was being paranoid; now she was glad he’d insisted on it.
After handing the ID to the man, she rested her hand on the butt of her gun. He was too busy studying the ID to notice.
“Says it expired last month,” he said.
“It did?” she asked, genuinely surprised.
“Yeah. I can’t let you back there.”
“But it’s my house,” she said. “You can’t stop me from going back there. Are you sheriff’s deputies?”
“No.”
“Any kind of law enforcement?”
“No.” The man snorted. “We’re in a without rule of law situation. Haven’t you seen the news?”
“Of course I have.”
“Well then, you know shit’s hit the fan. People are heading for the hills. We’re not letting them into the canyon. We’ve got to protect our own.”
She pressed her lips together.
“We’ll let you turn around this time, but don’t come back. We’ll shoot on sight if we catch you up here again,” he said. “Are we clear?”
“Crystal.”
“All right. Good luck to you.”
She bit her tongue and rolled up the window. Assholes. What right did they have to keep her from accessing her own home?
As she made a three-point turn on the narrow road, her chest tightened. She wasn’t one to back down from an unfair situation, but they outnumbered her and certainly outgunned her. Even if she could somehow manage to shoot two guns at once, she’d have the firepower of seven men blasting back at her. It wasn’t a survivable scenario.
She’d have to find another way to get to the cabin. With twilight descending, she wasn’t sure she could find another route up the mountain. If she didn’t figure something out soon, they’d be trapped in the dark in the middle of nowhere.
14
Sierra’s leaden feet dragged with each step. They’d been walking for several hours when she finally couldn’t take another step. She stopped. After dropping her Bug Out Bag on the sidewalk, she leaned back against a block wall.
“I need a break.”
“Let’s cross the toll road and find the trail, then we can stop,” Derek said.
“I can’t. My feet are killing me.”
“We’re too exposed here. We’re only a block away from the nearest houses. The toll road is less than a mile away. After we cross it, we’ll be at the foothills.”
“I can’t do another mile,” she said. “I’m not sure if I can even go ten more feet.”
“If someone from those houses came out with a gun, would you be able to run?” he asked.
“Of course.” She didn’t want to get shot. What a stupid question.
“Well then you can walk another mile,” he snapped. “Pick up the bag and move out.”
As she reached for her bag, she grumbled under her breath. Derek hadn’t even broken a sweat as far as she could tell. Based on his ripped biceps and thick neck, he probably spent half his day at the gym. He obviously couldn’t understand her pain. How could he? The man was a machine.
Step after step, the blisters on her feet sent sharp waves of pain up her legs. By the time they reached the overpass to the toll road, she was ready to ditch him and take her chances alone. She pulled her phone out of her pocket to check the time. Two-thirty a.m.
“The trailhead is on the other side of the bridge,” he said.
“Lead the way,” she said with as much fake enthusiasm as she could muster.
When they reached the dirt trail, she followed him around the first curve. The coastal sage scrub landscape was comprised mainly of small bushes and long grasses. When she was in high school, she’d come out with some hippy tree-huggers to gather sage for a group project. The hiking part was fun, but after an hour, she’d been ready to head home. If she could have found sage at the mall, she wouldn’t have wasted a day searching for it in the hills.
“Let’s stop here,” Derek said.
“Thank God.”
She dr
opped her pack in the center of the trail and sat down next to it. She pulled a bottle of water out and drank the whole thing. Maybe she should have conserved some, but she was so thirsty.
Derek sat across from her. In the darkness, she couldn’t read his expression, but she didn’t have to. She could feel his frustration. Guilt niggled at her. If she’d been in better shape, they would have made it farther by now. She was slowing them down.
After a few minutes of silence, Derek unzipped his pack.
“If we kept walking tonight, could you make it another ten miles?” he asked.
“Honestly? No.”
“I was hoping to make it farther, but maybe we should camp here for the night. It’s a fairly safe location and we’re at about the halfway point. We can get up at first light and be home to our families by tomorrow afternoon.”
Tears formed in her eyes. She couldn’t wait to get to the cabin. Her mom and brother were probably already there. Maybe her dad was there too.
“Do you have a tarp or anything like that in your bag?” he asked.
“Let me check.”
She opened her pack and began unloading it. She couldn’t see much, so she flicked on her mini LED tactical flashlight and set it face up on the ground. It fell over so she hooked it into the crease of her leg.
“Point it down,” he said.
“Why?”
“Someone could see the light.”
“Oh.”
She laid the flashlight on her thigh and angled the beam toward the ground. She pulled an emergency space blanket out of the pack along with a lightweight tarp. After digging past the first aid kit, she found a roll of 550 paracord. She set it on the tarp.
“I’ve got stuff to make a tent,” she said.
“Do you know how to do it?”
“Yeah. My dad taught me. We need to find a couple of trees.”
“Let’s see if we can find a small grove. It will give us protection from the wind and help hide us if people come down the trail,” he said.
“Okay.”
She stood and grabbed the flashlight.
“Here, let me show you how to hold it so that you give off less light,” he said.