Treasonous Behavior- in the Beginning

by Robert Johnson

  “Why’s that?” Cody asked the lunar man. He looked back at Nick and rolled his eyes. Maybe they should get out and walk the rest of the way, he thought. Nick caught his drift and shook his head.

  “The solar flashes have been acting friggin’ peculiar lately. I mean really weird,” Zeke said out of the blue. His body shivered, as if he had felt something strange enter it. “You can feel them, man, like the waves are blowing right through your soul. Can you sense it, man?”

  In unison, both Nick and Cody looked at the guy and said, “No.” It was definitely time to get out of the whacko’s van. But it was so warm.

  “So the solar flashes are erupting, like they’re really pissed off at something. And they’re sending out these strong rays. When the rays hit our planet they kind of fuck things up,” Zeke was telling them. Another unearthly shiver rattled his body.

  Nick tapped Cody’s arm and put up his index finger as if to say they should maybe listen to what the guy was talking about.

  “Whoa! Just got a rush, man,” Zeke blurted out. “Anyway, these invisible rays infiltrate electrical things and shut them down. The rays definitely cause havoc on computers, like with a vengeance. Colossal melt down for silicon city, dude.”

  Zeke was still driving and dodging the disabled vehicles all over the street as he was going through his story and crazy antics.

  “Okay,” Nick began. “But why is your van…ah…Betsy still running?”

  Zeke smiled. “Because my Betsy is a classic lady. She’s never even seen a computer.” He patted his baby again. “Now, haven’t you, Betsy?”

  “Oh,” Nick said. “So these rays you’re talking about don’t affect simple old engines like this one?”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you dudes,” Zeke said.

  “Can’t be too many of these classics around,” Cody added.

  “Oh sure there are, especially here in Arizona. Not like Betsy, of course, but the weather is kind to the old beasts. No salt on the roads, usually gentle winters. Lots of people down here collect the older

  models, you know, those built in the ‘50s and ‘60s. Simple mechanics. Nothing can stop these babies.” He leaned forward and stroked the dashboard again, muttering something.

  Nick and Cody nodded their agreement. Maybe they should stay with Zeke the LuNar man. Whacked out or not, he may have figured out a few things that were happening in the area. Plus, he had a working vehicle to get them around. And it was actually getting warmer.

  “Hey, dudes!” Zeke yelled. “Want to hear some Who?” Without waiting for an answer he grabbed an eight-track cartridge and inserted it into the player. Then he cranked up the volume to Pinball Wizard.

  Chapter 9

  Zeke had a difficult time threading his van through the stalled traffic as he got closer to town. At some points he drove onto the sidewalks to get around the backed up cars. A few times he tore across front graveled yards to detour around the chaotic lines of useless vehicles. He was still the only one driving on the roadways.

  Cody yelled to Zeke over the loud music. “Let’s stop by Safeway to see if it’s open.”

  Somehow Zeke understood him and nodded his head as he grooved to the blaring tunes. Safeway was one of the larger grocery stores in town. It was set in the middle of a spread-out shopping plaza anchored by a Walgreens on the corner of Coronado and the town’s main street, Fry Boulevard, running east-west.

  Zeke lowered the music down to the sonic boom level. “Maybe if it’s open, we can get some beer and Twinkies.”

  Whatever, Cody thought. This guy had no idea how disastrous this storm and its strange occurrences were. People were dying and all this pothead could think of was getting some beer and junk food.

  Half a mile from the plaza the three men heard a rumbling crash from behind them. Zeke looked in his side mirror in amazement. Cody and Nick turned and looked through the rear door windows.

  Despite the dirt and grime and strips of duct tape they were astonished at what they saw.

  Two sets of headlights riding high on the cab of what appeared to be large dump trucks emerged over the ridge through the gloomy morning air. They were moving at a steady, but strong pace north on Coronado toward the main boulevard. Mounted on the front of each massive truck were oversized plows, similar to the ones that are used to clear northern roads of snow. The trucks were riding low and heavy as they continued straight up the road.

  The men in the van couldn’t believe what they were watching. The trucks roared through the abandoned cars as if they were children’s Tonka toys. The cars piled up like tin play things. Some hit the sides of houses along the road. Others knocked down street light posts and electric poles. The monstrous trucks rammed straight through the stalled vehicles shoving them aside like discarded junk metal. The noise from the crashes and pilings was tremendous. Plowing onward they cleared the street of all vehicles, making the road open for other traffic.

  But what other traffic?

  Zeke kept glancing in the side mirror watching the demolition coming closer to old Betsy. He couldn’t move fast enough around the thick congestion of stalled cars to keep a safe distance from the raging destruction gaining in his path. The blaring lights were getting brighter in his rear view mirror. The clamor of gratuitous damage drew ever closer to the aging van.

  Within minutes the relentless trucks were on Zeke’s bumper. Side by side the plows continued tearing up a straight and even path along the four lane road, unyielding to anything in their way. The men in the van were blinded by the harsh lights behind them. They could smell the diesel fumes overtaking their ride. If Zeke couldn’t maneuver around the cars ahead of him blocking his escape, Betsy would soon be a heap of worthless scrap with three dead passengers.

  “Step on it, Zeke! Step on it!” Cody yelled.

  “I can’t get through,” Zeke screamed back. “Friggin’ traffic, dude.”

  “Go through it! “Nick shrieked. “Plow through the god-damn cars!”

  Zeke’s body shivered. He didn’t want to hurt his girl, but at this point he had no other choice. “Okay, man. Hang on, here we go.” He nudged the dead car in front of him, but Betsy didn’t have enough power to plow through a four-wheeled road block.

  “Ouch, ouch. Sorry girl,” he whispered as he floored the gas pedal and slowly inched past the first car.

  The two trucks were almost on them. A plow blade struck the back of the van and thrust it forward. Zeke steered around another vehicle and found an opening in the road. But the second plow had pushed a

  car into his side. The scraping and crunching of the van’s body brought Zeke to the verge of crying.

  Cody yelled again. “Hard left Zeke, hard left! There’s some room. Move it! Move it LuNar man!”

  Zeke did what he was told, shifted into high gear, and roared away from the oncoming slaughter. The two trucks stopped after crashing into the traffic jam. They had to back up to get a better run through the congestion. This gave Zeke and the guys enough time to whiz down the opposite side of the road unscathed, except for poor Betsy, which looked as if she had gone through a shredder.

  A hundred yards ahead Zeke pulled into the Safeway plaza. He stopped to catch his breath and assess damages to his pride and joy. As he walked around his van, the only word that came out of his mouth was, “Bummer.”

  They then drove closer to the grocery store. There were no lights, no evidence of the store or any other business being open. Several dozen cars were still parked in the lot. But there was lots of activity at the food storefront. Probably fifty or sixty people were pulling at the locked doors and pounding on the large plate glass windows. If there was anyone inside they refused to acknowledge their presence, whether by orders of the manager or for fear of their being harmed. Besides, without electricity no business could be conducted anyway.

  “People are getting distressed,” Cody mentioned. “This whole thing is getting way out of hand.”

  “No kidding,” Nick added. “Every tim
e we turn around there’s more problems.”

  “Guess I can’t get any snacks now,” Zeke mumbled, very disappointed.

  They heard a loud grinding of metal and the breaking of glass. The plow trucks had pushed their way pass the shopping plaza and turned west on Fry Boulevard toward the Army base two miles away. In their wake lay hundreds of demolished vehicles cast off the major byways of the small town.

  “Now what?” Zeke turned and asked his passengers.

  “The police station,” Nick said.

  Cody interrupted. “I’ve got three concerns. I’m wondering why those trucks were so maliciously tearing up the streets with no regard for personal property or safety. Doesn’t that seem a bit drastic? The

  cars could have easily been pushed to the side or towed away without causing any damage.”

  “That was pretty lame, man. See what they did to my Betsy?” Zeke said.

  “Someone is in a damn hurry to get the roads cleared,” Nick said. “And it’s no secret that property damage or even the possibility of killing people isn’t a concern of theirs.”

  “Also,” Cody continued, “why is it apparently so urgent to clear the major streets if no vehicles are working? I don’t believe in conspiracy theories, but this has all the signs of being one.”

  “It has to be the government, man,” Zeke said as if he were zoned out while driving.

  Nick jumped in. “But there are at least two trucks running. How in the hell is that happening? Maybe there are other vehicles capable of operating. Maybe for some reason or other they weren’t damaged or affected by this strange turn of events.”

  “It’s a conspiracy, man,” Zeke said with conviction.

  “That was my third question,” Cody commented. “How in the hell are they still running? From what I could see, they weren’t no fifty years old. They were modern big rig diesels. Aren’t they computerized just like every other newer vehicle?”

  “I would assume so,” Nick agreed.

  Zeke looked at the two men. “Freaky, huh?”

  “More than freaky, my friend,” Cody added. “It’s inexplicable.”

  “To the police station,” Nick said again.

  “Buckle up dudes, we’re going to the fuzz shop,” Zeke said as he turned out of the shopping plaza past the crowd still banging on Safeway’s windows. He straightened out the van and headed toward the city hall complex on North Coronado. “I could sure use a beer,” he uttered, entering the newly cleared metal carnage leading to the police station.

  The road was littered with shattered safety glass from numerous windshields and side windows. It glistened in the dull daylight and looked as if ice crystals blanketed the asphalt pavement. Chunks of ragged plastic bumpers and bits of odd shaped rubber were strewn along the sides. SUVs and sedans, pickup trucks and mini-vans, motorcycles and several small city buses lined the street shoulders. Some were barely scratched while others were twisted into

  unrecognizable hunks of metal. At once busy corners cars were piled two or three high like giant snow mounds in the winter.

  Clearly, it was imperative to clear the roads, Cody reasoned. But to what end?

  Everywhere they looked there were no lights. The communication towers along the mountain range no longer blinked red. There were no sounds of military aircraft running training sorties from the far off runways. Every storefront was shut down. Every traffic light and speed camera was disabled. But there were still some people walking in the bitter cold to places unknown.

  Minutes later they were approaching the city hall-police complex in the north central part of the city. The battered VW van slowly rolled off the pavement onto the soft shoulder some hundred yards or so before the police department entranceway.

  “Ah…guys,” Zeke said weakly.

  “What’s wrong?” Nick asked. “Engine trouble?”

  Zeke looked at him through the rearview mirror. “Um…this is as far as I can go. You can walk from here. The fuzz shop is right over there,” he pointed.

  “Just pull up to the front doors, Zeke,” Cody instructed.

  “Ah…no. It’s best if I don’t go there. I might be seen.”

  “And there’s something wrong with that?” Cody asked suspiciously.

  Zeke looked at him sheepishly. “Me and the cops don’t get along so good. I mean, they’re cool and all that, but…”

  Nick asked, “But what?”

  “They’re kind of looking for me on account of a few little things.”

  “A few little things? Like what?” Cody had to ask.

  “Like a few tickets.”

  “Hell, Zeke. They don’t care about some traffic tickets during a crisis like this. Don’t worry about it. So let’s go.”

  “Well.” Zeke was hesitant. “They kind of caught me selling some weed and I haven’t exactly gone back to see them.”

  “How much weed are we talking about?” Cody asked. He knew some of his college students smoked grass and the punishment for possessing small amounts was generally lenient.

  “Not much,” Zeke said.

  “How much?”

  “About a pound.”

  “A pound of grass? Zeke, are you dealing?” Cody asked again.

  “Well, maybe it was closer to two pounds. Hey, I have friends, you

  know.”

  “Okay,” Cody said with a roll of his eyes. The scent of weed was

  all of a sudden much stronger. “You stay here. Nick and I will go

  inside and talk with the police.”

  “I’ll stay right here,” Zeke said.

  “We won’t be long, okay. Just keep the engine running and wait for us.”

  “I’ll keep the engine running and wait for you,” Zeke repeated. Another spastic shiver ran through his body.

  Nick and Cody exited the van out the back doors. Cody raised one finger toward Zeke as if to say ‘we’ll only be a minute.’

  “Hurry,” Zeke said through the window. Then he cranked up the music in Betsy’s eight-track and tried to chill out.

  Chapter 10

  The guys walked up to the police station. “He’s one crazy bastard. Isn’t he?” Nick said to Cody.

  “No kidding. L-u-N-a-r all the way,” Cody answered. “But he got us here.”

  “That he did.”

  Approaching the station they saw lights inside the modern two-story southwestern style building. “Hey, they have electricity,” Nick shouted with excitement.

  There were about a dozen police cruisers in the parking area. They saw no police officers outside, but it was too cold to be outside anyway. A couple other pedestrians were entering the double doors in front of Cody and Nick. Once inside the massive foyer the men were surprised at the number of people standing at the counter listening to a young officer. At least a few dozen people were talking at the same time asking for answers from the cop.

  Cody noticed the lights in the building weren’t real lights. They were battery operated portable lanterns set on far sides of the long reception counter. They threw off a harsh fluorescent illumination turning everything in the room into black and white shadows. So much for having electricity, Nick realized.

  “Please quiet down folks,” the cop said. “I know you are wondering what has happened. I know you are wondering when the lights will be turned back on. You’re also wondering when help will arrive for those who need it.”

  “No shit Barney Fife,” someone yelled out from the back.

  A few laughs echoed in the cold building.

  “My family is cold,” another voice said.

  “What about the cars on the streets?” a different person yelled out.

  “None of my cars will start.”

  “Yeah, and the stores are closed.”

  “We have no water.”

  Some idiot in the mob grunted, “I can’t watch television.”

  “You dumb shit, who the hell cares about television when nothing

  else works,” another voice echoed.

  There
were some muffled chuckles from the gathering.

  Cody shook his head. It took all kinds.

  The crowd was getting restless. They were impatient, tired, and cold from their trek to the station. They were mostly frustrated not knowing what was happening. They were concerned about their families and their homes. At this early phase they weren’t thinking about any possible long term effects, though they should have been. It wouldn’t have made a difference for most of them, however.

  The cop held up his hands as if that would stop the barrage of questions. But it didn’t, and the barks of shouts and screams continued to fill the room. Another police officer came through a staff’s door to rescue the younger recruit. This cop appeared to be a senior member of the force. He had an air of confidence and emitted a practiced sense of authority.

  Cody recognized him as the officer who had interviewed him regarding the probable suicide of Cody’s friend and work associate, Jonathan Campbell. It seemed like a month ago, although it was only yesterday. Maybe this guy had answers, even though he was one hundred percent wrong about Jonathan, as far as Cody was concerned.

  He stood in front of the group in an attempt to calm them down. “Okay. Let me explain what I know,” he started. The crowd simmered down, hoping for everything to be fixed in the next few minutes. “Our entire police force is on alert. They understand the gravity of the situation which has hit our city. Every one of our officers and staff members are doing the best they can under the circumstances. As we speak patrols are canvassing the neighborhoods to assist. But there are

  priorities which must first be met. Our elderly and sick are our first focus. Then families with young children. The general population will have to stay calm and remain in their homes until this storm passes through and the electricity can once again be restored.”

  He waited a brief moment, then continued. “I’ve personally been in touch with the people at the electric company. You can understand they are inundated with inquiries and overwhelmed with determining the cause of the outage. They have assured me that all of their repair crews are on the job attempting to fix the problems.”