by C A Bird
Jon didn’t dare turn on the headlights, and even though it was now dark, he could see by the light of the moon, and he was amazed at how quickly he covered the ground. Having traveled everywhere on foot for the past 22 months he felt like a NASCAR driver. Two blocks away from the bridge he pulled to the curb and shut off the engine. He quietly exited the car and closed the door.
Sneaking along 16th St., he said a small prayer of thanks that he’d been so cautious, as he caught sight of a light just on the other side of the bridge. As he worked his way closer he could hear voices in the dark and he knew they had closed off the bridges to town with sentries. His only chance was to go north around the River Bend and see if they had thought to close off the railroad bridge for the Durango and Silverton train.
Back on his feet, Jon felt like it took forever to get to the bridge, but it was worth it when he found it unguarded. Carefully stepping from tie to tie, to prevent a misstep that could sprain or even break an ankle, he crossed the bridge and made his way home. He was trembling… afraid of what he might find.
As he opened the door to the basement, he heard a whimper and a flashlight stabbed the dark, temporarily blinding him. Even though deaf, Mary had felt his footsteps as he descended to their hideout. He started to sign to her but she dropped the flashlight and threw her arms around him. Holding her only for a moment, he pushed her away and felt for the flashlight. Many months ago they had hung black plastic over the two windows in the basement which prevented light from being seen from the outside. Mary removed them during the day to give them meager sunlight.
Turning on the flashlight just long enough to light the oil lamp, he signed to Mary, “A huge motorcycle gang just rode into town and we have to get out of here.”
“Where will we go?”
“I have no idea, but we have to get out of here now. I’ll pack some stuff in our backpacks and you wake up the kids.”
Suddenly, Jon heard the sound of a motorcycle. He put his finger to his lips and signed, “Keep the kids very quiet,” as he shut off the lamp. Feeling his way to the hidden space between the studs, he removed his rifle and two boxes of .22 LR ammunition. He went to Mary and placed his hand on her chest, a signal to remain where she was. Then, very carefully, he climbed the stairs and went to the front window. The motorcycle moved very slowly past the house. There was no indication the driver had any suspicion that Jon’s house was occupied.
When the chopper had turned the corner, Jon breathed a sigh of relief and went back to the basement. “We need to wait until closer to morning when, hopefully, they’ll be asleep.”
21
Although none of Mark’s group was aware of it, the next day turned out to be the weekend. The farmers market took place in a huge, flat field just north of the river. It was circular and at least a quarter of a mile in diameter. A wooden stage was built right in the middle, with a four-piece band playing country music. To the east, there were three, huge, pole tents and several areas covered over by tarps. Chairs and tables were set up under the tarps and people were enjoying lunch. The marketplace was filled with customers wandering around the stalls, either purchasing, or bartering, for produce and other goods. The market was busy every day, but the difference with it being the weekend was that children were everywhere. The Farmington survivors had started schools, and during the week the children spent their days as all children for decades before them had done… griping about having to go to school.
A large ranch with two red barns, a line of horse stalls and an oval arena was adjacent to the marketplace. There were bleachers on both sides of the arena with press boxes at the top of the bleachers on the river side.
The wagon train from the New Mexico colony had received permission to camp on the grounds of the ranch, and the wagons were drawn up in their usual triangle. Unable to let go of their situational awareness, the group still posted sentries. Mike, Carlos and Chang were spread out around the wagons, but were un-mounted and lounging about in lawn chairs, each with a soda or a beer in his hand.
Skillet, just happy to have someone else cook for a day, had gone to the marketplace to get barbecued ribs. Kevin and Ashley were playing dodge ball at the ranch with a dozen other children and the sound of happy kids made Lori smile.
Mark and Lori approached Sheri. “Would you mind keeping an eye on the kids? Mark and I are going to explore a bit.”
Still shocked and saddened by Jesse’s death, Sheri nodded her head. “Sure, I was just gonna hang out here at the wagons anyway.”
“Make sure they stay in the area around the wagons.”
“Don’t worry. They’ll be safe,” Carlos called out. “We’ll help Sheri.”
Mark and Lori wandered through the marketplace, but were surprised that they couldn’t really find anything they wanted to buy. Mark slipped his arm through Lori’s as they walked. “Funny how you get used to not having a lot of extra stuff. We can all chip in and let Skillet buy whatever we need for the coming trip.”
“Yes, but I still need to get a few things for the kids. We eat a lot less than we did before the war but they’re still growing like weeds.”
Just outside the marketplace, on the road that led to the Civic Center, they found a comfortable bar. It was one of the things Mark missed about the old days. He was a runner, and after a long trail run on the weekends he and his buddies would always hit a little bar in the Santa Monica Mountains.
There was a line of booths along the wall on one side of the room, and the rest of the room was taken up with round tables and wooden chairs. They sat at a table, unsure if there was a waitress, but within a minute a woman walked up and asked them for their order.
“What do you have?” Mark asked.
“We still have a lot of liquor and, of course, beer. It’s going fast, but Jillian, the owner, had some of the guys rig up a still. I think we’re gonna be good for a long time.”
“Sounds good,” Mark said. “I’ll just take a beer. Anything you’ve got.”
“Same for me,” Lori said.
“You know,” an old man at the next table said, “whiskey’s way better for you. Tastes a whole lot better, too.”
Mark looked over and saw a man who looked to be in his sixties, with white hair sticking straight up, and silver stubble covering his cheeks and chin. He wore coveralls with no shirt.
“Well, sir,” Mark told him, “I’ve just always liked my beer. But I’ll buy you a whiskey if you’ll tell us some things about your town. We just got here from Raton.”
The old man lurched to his feet and stumbled to the table, pulling up a chair. “What do you want to know?” The waitress put a shot of whiskey in front of the old man and rolled her eyes at Mark and Lori.
“What’s your name?”
“I’m Clarence. They call me Butch. Butch Errington.”
“So tell us what happened in the war. How did so many of you survive here in Farmington?”
“Hell if I know,” he slurred. “We heard that bombs were coming, and then the lights went out. Didn’t take long and everybody was fightin’ and killing each other.” His eyes glazed over and he stared off into the dimness.
He spoke as if in a trance. “Gangs came through just shooting people for no reason. Neighbors turned on one another, stealing food. Whole families starved to death ‘cause they didn’t prepare for even short-term disasters. If it hadn’t been for Jeff Hunt, everybody’d be dead.” He stopped talking as though he’d gone to sleep.
Mark looked over at Lori and she shrugged her shoulders. “We heard that name once before. Who’s Jeff Hunt?”
Butch threw back the jigger of whiskey in one gulp. “He was a supervisor out at the power plant. Just got a bunch of guys together and they put a stop to the gangs. There was a lot more good people than bad guys. A major skirmish took place right here in town and the bad guys lost. Hunt got folks together, started the marketplace. Got people growing crops. Made the kids go to school.”
“Where can we find this Jeff Hunt?”
“You can just head north from here till you hit Civic Center. He and the rest of the government hang around up there.” He looked through rheumy eyes at Lori. “You know, you’re kind of a pretty thing. You wanna go with me to that backroom over there? I haven’t had any sex in a long time.”
Mark jumped to his feet but Lori put her hand on his arm. “Mister Errington, I think our conversation is over. Thanks for the information. I think you’d better go before my husband tears you to pieces.” The old man, his head waving back and forth, looked up at Mark, and seeing the anger in his eyes, struggled to his feet.
“Okay lady, but you missed out on a really good time.” He belched and turned away, stumbled and went to one knee, pulling himself back up by the chair.
As he staggered away, Lori said, “Welcome back to civilization.”
Aaron and Chris came into the bar from the bright sunshine beyond the door. They stood a minute, allowing their eyes to adjust to the dimness, and then spotting Mark and Lori, came over to the table. Chris had Karen in a canvas baby carrier against her chest. She’d purchased it from a group of people that had cleaned out a Walmart.
“Hi guys,” Mark greeted them. “What’s up Aaron? You look worried. You want a beer?” Mark signaled to the waitress, holding up two fingers. Aaron held a chair for Chris as she unharnessed the baby. Then he took a seat beside her.
“Mark, we’ve got something to talk to you about. We… me and Chris, aren’t going to go any further with you guys.” He hurried on when he saw Mark’s look of surprise. “We really just wanted to get an idea of what the world was like out here. I think we’ve seen that.”
“But we haven’t even gotten to California, and Chris, I thought that’s what you wanted to see.”
“I did. I just didn’t think it through, how hard it would be with the baby.” The waitress came over and popped the tops off of two beers putting them in front of Chris and Aaron. “I thought I was searching for home, but I found out I already know where home is. I really miss Daniel and Rana and all of our friends in Willsburg.” She looked over at Aaron for support.
“Were gonna go back, Mark. Sam and Willy will be herding their horses back to Platte Valley and we’re going to go with them. Carlos and Chang have decided to stay here. They’ve seen enough. They like the idea of a larger town.”
“Well, I’m surprised of course. Chris, what will happen if we decide to stay in California? I might never see you again.”
Tears sprang to Chris’s eyes. “I know Mark, but I don’t think that’s going to happen. I think when you get to California you’re going to find a radioactive wasteland. I don’t even know if it’ll be safe for you to try and get to the coast.”
“Yeah, but that’s what we were trying to find out.”
Lori reached over and put her hand on Chris’s. “Chris, I know how you feel. Sometimes I am so scared for the kids, so I completely understand that you don’t want to go on. I don’t know what we’re going to find, but if California is uninhabitable, then I think we may end up coming back to the New Mexico Colony.” She looked over at Mark and raised her eyebrows.
He grinned his little sideways grin and said, “You know what? I never really thought that far. I guess I just figured I would move Lori and the kids into my house in Newport Beach. Or even to Will’s mansion on the bluff. But if I really think about it, you’re probably right. We may not be able to get within one hundred miles of Newport Beach. You guys have to do what you think is right for you and Karen.”
They looked up as the door opened and four silhouettes, that turned out to be Matthew, Einstein, Danny and Jimbo, entered the room and looked around until they spotted their friends. The newcomers grabbed another table and slid it alongside the first.
Matthew noticed the tears in Chris’s eyes. “Hello. Is something going on?” Jimbo stuck four fingers into the air.
“Chris and Aaron have decided to go back to Willsburg,” Lori told them.
“I think we’ve had enough adventure,” Aaron said. “We set out to see what it was like outside of our Valley and to ensure the Holcombs got home okay, and we’ve done that. It’s really hard with the baby, and you guys can travel a lot faster without us.”
“How about the rest of you guys?” Mark asked.
“I’m still in,” Matthew said.
“And me,” from Einstein.
“Me and Danny are coming too,” Jimbo said. “I know Sheri wants to go on. She and her parents lived in San Diego, which was probably a primary target, but she has an aunt and uncle that lived in Lompoc and she’s hoping they survived. It’s pretty close to Vandenberg Air Force Base, though. So I’m not too optimistic.”
“We can all get together at camp one of these nights and find out what everybody wants to do.” Mark drained his beer and held up a finger.
22
“I want every one of them found, do you hear me?”
Major Burr Cartwright stood at attention, sweat trickling down the side of his face. “Yes, Mister President. We have dozens of men and dogs searching for them. We rounded up eight escapees and we believe there are only two more.”
“Well, you need to capture those two. I can’t believe you let this happen. We can’t allow an attempted escape to go unpunished. If it does, we’re going to have attempts from all the other camps.”
“Yes, sir. Colonel Faricy and I are aware of the seriousness. We’ve taken Captain Mitchum into custody.”
“Have him brought to me, Major.”
Cartwright motioned to a soldier standing at attention by the door and the soldier left the room. The president continued, “I want the eight escapees executed. Set up a firing squad in front of all the workers in the camp. No, wait! Lock them up and make sure they don’t get away. Tell one of the construction engineers to have a gallows built in the field just north of the White House. Tell him to make it a two-holer. When it’s finished, I want all eight of the escapees to be hanged two at a time. Leave the last two dangling for a couple of days to make sure the other workers know what will happen to them if they try to escape.”
Major Cartwright gulped, “Yes, Mister President, right away.”
The president turned to General Ladner, “This is one reason why we need to get more soldiers and more weapons.”
The general, who was sitting on a leather couch against the wall said, “We’ve stepped up our efforts to recruit soldiers from the camps, Jeremy. We have a total of almost one hundred young men over the age of sixteen that we’ve found in the last thirty days.”
“When will they be ready to go?”
“It’ll take about ten weeks to condition them. We’ve already found uniforms for every one of them but, of course, we won’t arm them until they’ve been fully trained.”
There was a soft knock on the door. “Come in,” Rissman yelled. The door opened and Captain Mitchum was pushed into the room. He wore filthy, rumpled, sweat-stained, uniform pants but didn’t have on a shirt or shoes. Hands tied behind his back, he stood in front of the president, his head bowed. His hair was tangled and he had a three-day, scruffy beard, his face and chest damp with a sheen of sweat.
“Get down on your knees, Mitchum,” Rissman said.
Mitchum hesitated, and the soldier behind him put a hand on his shoulder, pressing downward. He awkwardly lowered himself to his knees and looked up at the president, fear in his red-rimmed eyes.
“You were in charge of the men who escaped?”
“Yes, Mister President.”
“Well, what the hell happened?”
“Sir, one of the workers collapsed and while the guards were distracted, the prisoners made their escape attempt. They managed to get some weapons from the guards and were firing into our midst. We almost immediately captured eight of them, but two of them separated from the others and we were unable to find them. I don’t know if they’ve been captured yet, but I’m sure every attempt is being made.”
“Well, Mitchum. I’m sure you’re aware that this ki
nd of thing can’t happen.”
“No, sir. I mean, yes, sir”
“Somebody has to be held accountable. And that somebody, is you. You were the ranking officer in charge of the detail.”
“Yes, sir,” Mitchum said in a whisper. “I take full responsibility.”
Rissman looked up at the soldier standing behind Captain Mitchum.
“Kill him.”
Mitchums’ eyes grew round and his Adam’s Apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. The soldier pulled a large .45 caliber pistol out of his holster and shoved it against the back of Mitchum’s head. Mitchum closed his eyes, his face scrunching up, waiting for the blast.
General Ladner came to his feet. “Jeremy. Might I suggest an alternative? You’re already going to make your point by hanging the escapees. We just discussed the fact that we need more soldiers so it doesn’t make any sense to kill the ones we have. We’re having some dissension in the camps up north and I think Captain Mitchum could be used as a mole.”
The president held up his hand to the soldier who was ready to pull the trigger. “Tell me what you have in mind, Charles.”
“As you know, sir, our primary agricultural area is up around Parkersburg. There are two camps that supply workers to these farms. There have been two or three rebellions by the workers in these camps and I believe we could insert Captain Mitchum into one of the camps to gather information and find out who the ringleaders are for the rebels. It would be hard work. He wouldn’t be getting off easy. It could take quite a few months before he was accepted and once he’s identified the insurrectionists, and we put down the rebellion, he could be reinstated as a member of our military. He would have to start at the bottom, of course, and work his way back up.”