by Nees, David
“This isn’t going to go over well with Anne,” Kevin said.
“You’re right. But I don’t know who else we can send. For me it’s ultimately about defending my family, and my tribe.”
Jason broke off his reverie. Don’t get all melancholy, you volunteered for this mission. He sat up and thought about building a small fire. The night was cold.
The painful part had been talking to Anne. She had not reacted well to the news. She reminded him in strong terms that he had responsibilities: a duty to his son, a duty to his wife, and a duty to his step-daughters. She didn’t see his sense of duty to Hillsboro as being on par with those three things. Jason’s protestations failed to sway her.
If life became too difficult in Hillsboro, they could always go back to the valley, she pointed out. Just let the world around them go to hell. The valley was well hidden, they could farm it again like they did before they relocated to Hillsboro. It stood as a refuge from the complications that seemed to spring up around them in town.
As to what Catherine, their daughter, and Kevin, her husband, might do if things got worse, Anne didn’t have a good answer. In the end she gave in, more in realization that she couldn’t dissuade her husband, and, that to insist he not do what he saw as his duty, would only poison him and possibly their relationship.
Let it go, Jason brought himself back to the present. You’re on the quest now. That’s what you have to focus on.
What Jason had not told anyone was that he had brought his M110 sniper rifle along. If the situation called for it, he would use it. Cut off the head and the body dies. It’s what had worked before in so many encounters he’d experienced. He wanted that option available to him even if it wasn’t part of his mandate from the city.
He settled back down in under his tarp and began to relax. He listened to the night sounds, his ears probing, searching for anything unusual. Not too far off he heard coyotes begin to bark and howl. He didn’t register them as a threat but guessed Ernie and his family were happy to be crammed into suitable cars. I’d rather stretch out here.
The next day Jason and the family walked along, making small conversation in between long silences. Jason gave them some purification tablets so they could refill their water bottles. The boy showed interest in Jason and his rifle. He asked how the weapons worked and if he had killed anyone. The girl kept her distance. She seemed shy, which Jason thought was a good thing considering what they were about to enter into.
That night they sat around a small fire Jason had prepared well away from the road.
“Tomorrow we’ll reach Gastonia. It will get more dangerous at that point,” Jason said.
“Why is that?” Ruth asked.
“More people. More possibilities to run into bad ones. You’ve been traveling through countryside with mostly small towns. I’ll bet most of them were abandoned and, if not, the people shied away from you. This could be different.”
“So how do we navigate through that?”
“If you like, I’ll continue with you. I can provide some protection. Just seeing my rifle may dissuade any from trying to rob you…or worse.” He looked at Ernie. “But we have to separate sometime before we cross the Catawba River, before we get to whatever barriers Charlotte has set up.”
“I thought you were going to Charlotte?” Ernie said.
“I am, but not the way you are.” Jason said no more and Ernie didn’t ask. Jason continued, “We don’t know how far out Charlotte has set up their barriers or checkpoints, but you’ll run into them if you travel on the main route. After Gastonia, you should walk along I85. I’m sure they’ll have a checkpoint set up there.”
“We appreciate your help,” Ernie said. “I’m sorry I was so suspicious when we encountered you.”
“You did the right thing.” Jason looked at the kids who were sitting across from him. Tom was messing about with the fire, poking at it and sticking more wood into it. “Don’t make it too large,” Jason told him.
The boy looked over at him with a serious expression on his face. “Were you in the Boy Scouts? You know a lot about camping.”
Jason smiled. “I was in the army. We did a lot of camping there.”
“I’d like to be in the army when I grow up. Camping’s fun.”
“Well, you may be able to do that. It might be a good profession in the future.” Jason felt a surge of enthusiasm at the boy’s statement. We need more of that. There’s too much just surviving right now.
“Are you going to try to keep your revolver?” Jason asked Ernie.
“I’d like to. But I don’t want to be caught smuggling it in. If they find it in my pack they could take it away.”
Jason nodded. “It’s a big decision, for sure. If you decided to sneak it in, Ruth may be the key. They probably won’t search a woman as closely as a man.”
“What would you do?” Ruth asked.
“I’m different. I’ve fought many battles since the EMP attack. Others in the army prior to that, so what I’d do may not be a good plan for you to follow.”
Ruth kept looking at him, her face still reflecting her question.
“I’d want to have the gun with me, so I’d find a way to get it in. But I’m not suggesting you do that.”
“And you’re not going in the normal way because you’re bringing your rife, and the pistol you have on your belt in. Are you up to no good?” Ruth asked.
“What I may be up to, why I’m going to Charlotte, are none of your business.” Jason leaned forward to focus directly on the two. “You have my offer to help through this last phase of your journey, but there’s a tradeoff for that help. You must not mention me to anyone. You came all this way by yourself. Do you understand? Can you keep me a secret to yourselves?” He looked from Ruth to Ernie.
Both of them nodded.
“Sure, sure,” Ernie said, sounding a bit distressed. “But that just makes what you’re doing seem more suspicious.”
“Don’t fret about that. We were never together and no matter what happens, nothing will be connected to you.”
Chapter 7
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T he next day they reached I85 before noon and followed it east towards Gastonia. The interstate ran twelve blocks north of the central downtown. The downtown was populated with local businesses: used car lots, auto repair shops, self-defense studios, restaurants, and a few major banks. They were all closed. Only the town’s police department was still functioning.
Jason and the family encountered more people as they walked along the highway. Most gave them careful looks and shied away, seeing that Jason was armed. He thought about Gastonia. What kept it functioning? Was it trading with Charlotte? Did the town provide some service? Perhaps the parks and open areas had been converted to farms in order to provide food, not only for the locals but to sell or trade in Charlotte.
As they passed open areas and athletic fields, Jason’s guesses were confirmed. The spaces had been turned into large vegetable plots.
When they were abreast of a giant Walmart fronting the interstate, Jason stopped.
“The bridge is not far ahead and it’s a choke point. We’re getting too close to possible check points. I’m going to have to leave you here.”
“Where’re you going?” Ernie asked.
“Not for you to know.”
Jason crouched down in front of the kids. “Look, I’m going to leave you now. I need you to both promise me something. I need you to both not talk to anyone about me. Your parents have agreed to keep me a secret and you need to do that as well. Can you promise?”
Jennifer stared at him wide eyed.
Tom asked him, “Are you on a secret mission?”
Jason nodded. “Yes, in a way. It’s very secret.”
“For the army?”
“Kind of like that.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” he declared boldly.
“And you?” Jason asked looking at Jennifer.
She nodd
ed.
“Good. You can talk about it with your mom and dad, but no one else.” He got up and turned to Ruth and Ernie. “If you’re going to hide that gun, do it now, not after you’re in sight of the bridge.
He shook their hands.
“I’ve got to go.”
“Thanks for your help and your advice,” Ernie said.
Jason nodded and headed off the interstate and into the woods to the north of the highway.
A sense of relief flowed over him as he entered the woods. He felt more comfortable in the forest than on the highway. The roadways gave him a sense of being exposed which kept him on edge. He worked his way east, following the cover of the trees until he reached the river’s edge. With little rain in the last two weeks, the level and flow were down. Thankfully there were woods on the far side that he could disappear into. He’d wait until night to cross. Turning, he went back into the trees. No fire tonight.
The evening was dark. Clouds covered the stars. There was a half-moon which gave little light through the thick cover; a perfect night for infiltration. Jason checked his pack to make sure his M110 was secure in its case and sealed. He had used precious plastic to seal his spare clothes and blanket inside his backpack.
With his gear checked, he set out for the river. He would wade as far as possible and then swim, hopefully, only a narrow channel, before returning to wading on the other side. He needed to make sure he didn’t get swept down too close to the bridge. At the river’s edge, he could see the bridge’s outline downstream to his right. A single floodlight shone on the span, powered by a generator he could hear running. As he expected, a checkpoint had been set up there.
The central part of the city, the main downtown, was ringed by an interstate highway. Inside that ring were the high-rise bank buildings competing with one another like grand phallic symbols of corporate pride. There were high-rise, luxury hotels, testimonials to the power and wealth of the city in the pre-EMP days. Also, within the ring were the professional baseball and football stadiums, now probably unused and left to decay.
The city spilled out well beyond that inner ring, but Jason guessed the inner highway acted as another check. One might need a special pass to get inside where he assumed those who ran the city stayed. First, stash certain gear, then get inside and start the process of gathering intelligence.
He waded out into the cold water, gasping out loud at the shock of its mid-November temperature. When it reached his chest and the current threaten to pull him off his feet, he began to swim with his pack and M4 carbine strapped to his back. Hard, strong stokes with his feet kicking furiously, slowly pulled him forward. When his boots encountered the bottom, he pushed down, shoving himself along. The intense effort moved him at a snail’s pace. He was not very streamlined with his clothes and gear. Soon enough, however, he could walk again without the current pulling him off his feet. He was only a black dot on the black river. Without the moon, there was no chance anyone on the bridge could see him.
As the depth shallowed, Jason crouched and shuffled forward to the bank. On gaining dry land he stayed in a crouch until he reached the cover of the trees. Once inside the woods, he sat down, removed his pack, took off his boots, and emptied them of water. Next, he took off his shirt and pants and squeezed them as dry as he could. He took his jacket out of his backpack and, after getting dressed, put it on to protect from the night’s chill.
Jason headed for an industrial warehouse district he knew of northwest of the central downtown. He would set up a hideout there, a place to keep his sniper gear. He moved as quickly as he could, following the patches of woods that interconnected with each other, keeping his exposure minimized. Road crossings were his most exposed moments.
He found a cleared right of way for a pipeline and worked his way along the edge of it. There was a protective buffer of trees that shielded him from the adjacent neighborhood. In spite of the night’s cover, he moved quietly, pausing regularly to listen. He had no idea of how many of the nearby houses were occupied, if any, but he wanted to be a ghost, passing through with no notice.
An hour later he reached the interstate that formed the outer ring around Charlotte. It helped define a large urban area that years of development had not completely filled in. Now Jason doubted it would ever be fully developed.
At the edge of the interstate, he sat in the grass to watch and listen. He was shivering from the cold in spite of his coat. His clothes hadn’t dried and his feet were going numb. The highway was still; there was no traffic. That was not his worry. His worry was a pair of eyes, to his left or right; eyes he couldn’t see, but ones that could see him crossing the open roadway. After waiting five minutes, scanning and listening, Jason moved to his left. Ahead was a tighter cluster of vehicles on the road that had crashed and stalled. A tractor-trailer seemed to have been the genesis of the accident. The vehicles would help cover his movements.
Taking a deep breath, he crouched low and slowly moved to the cars. He threaded his way through them and crossed into the median which was below the level of the roadway to repeat his surveillance of the highway. When he could detect no sound or movement, he crossed the lanes. Upon reaching the far side, he slid down the bank and pushed into the brush and trees.
Once in the trees, he relaxed and picked his way in the dark, using every strip of trees and brush to stay concealed. Shortly, he reached an industrial area. There were multiple warehouses with trucks and trailers parked in rows outside. The stillness of the night gave them a sense of normalcy, as if they were just waiting for the next day’s work to begin. Would they would never be started or loaded again? The half-moon now higher in the sky, gave a feeble glow through the cloud cover.
He went into a compound of warehouses. Some of them were large, obviously used as distribution centers. Off to one side were rows of smaller warehouses that had been used for local businesses. Jason prowled through the compound. The doors on all of them were open. They had been well-looted which suited Jason’s purpose. He picked an older warehouse. Inside it was ink-black. He felt his way along the walls. Ahead a glimmer of light showed in an inner office. The office had a window which allowed a faint glow of moonlight through the dirty glass. He carefully closed the door, went to the back of the room and sat down against the wall, facing the door and window. He’d rest there until daylight and then hide his gear.
When morning came, Jason stretched his stiff, cold body. He forced himself to move around until he began to feel warmer, ate some of his jerky, and drank some water. Sleeping on concrete floors, even with some worn carpet covering them was not as comfortable as the woods.
He spent twenty minutes exploring the warehouse and finally settled on a mezzanine office with a drop ceiling in place. He pushed aside some tiles and put his two rifles in the ceiling. He would only take his 9mm sidearm into town with him. He was going in cold, with no references established. That meant he had to not only get inside the city, but find a way to get noticed by the mob; to catch their attention in a way that would make them interested in him.
Getting across the next interstate would put him inside that outer perimeter. He’d have to make a connection before he could work his way farther into the inner part of the city, which, he assumed, was where the city’s hierarchy was located. Jason put his 9mm in his backpack but kept his knife on his belt. He went back to the office where he’d spent the night and sat back to eat an MRE. It might be the last regular meal he would consume. Better to cross at night. He sat back and relaxed. Rest while you can. There’ll soon be more than enough action.
Chapter 8
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T hat night Jason crossed the interstate and followed a power line south. He could walk along the wooded edge of the cleared right of way, shielded from the streets and buildings. He wanted to get as close to the central city as possible before letting himself get “discovered”. Since he had no idea of the power structure of the city, the mob seemed to be the best way in. So, he
had to be seen as someone interesting, someone with possibilities they could use.
When he got near a large commercial street, he saw lights. Further in the distance, towards the central downtown he could see the glow of more lights. They’ve got power. Enough to light areas at night. Hillsboro had power from the water mill project, but not enough to squander on lighting up streets at night, allowing businesses and people to continue their activities after the sun went down. Jason stepped out onto the sidewalk and started walking in the direction of downtown.
Even with the lighting, there were few people out on the streets. He stopped at a bar that was open indicating that some form of alcohol was being produced. Wonder what they use for currency? He decided to go in and find out. He needed information.
The space was dimly lit with few electric lights. There were a half dozen men sitting at the bar and a few couples at tables. He sat down at the bar.
“What’ll you have?” the bartender asked as he came over.
“What do you have?”
“Whiskey, beer and some wine.”
“I’m impressed. How long has that been going on?”
“You’re new here, aren’t you?”
“I guess I can’t hide it,” Jason said with a smile. “Things have certainly progressed here.” He paused for a moment. “How does one pay for all this?”
“We have a local currency, but we also take gold or gems. That’s not as easy as just going to a city office to convert what you have into the paper currency.”
Jason thought about that for a moment. “So, you have city exchange centers and they set the rates?”
The bartender nodded. “Do you want a drink? And do you have anything to pay for it?”