America- The Eagle has Fallen

by Gordon Ballantyne

  “What do you guys have in the carts and packs?” demanded the machete wielding jagwhistle with the pincushion face. He looked like a Goth Royal Dragoon on his trusty mountain bike steed waving his saber above his head.

  “A fishing pole to go with the hooks in your face,” I replied menacingly.

  He looked at me wild-eyed and dismounted his recently purloined transportation device. “You’re going to pay for that!” as he started towards me on the sidewalk with his machete raised in the air.

  He was coming directly from our front so I shoved the heavily laden cart towards him, catching him in the midsection before he could swing the machete. He was doubled over in front of my battering ram cart so I calmly pulled my Glock pistol from its holster and shot him in the head. A red mist erupted from the back of his head and he fell to the sidewalk like a poleaxed cow. His baldheaded partner dropped his bike and was scrambling on all fours, crab walking away from me, looking at my gun with wide eyes. I slowly walked up to him as he was crawling away from me and told him to freeze and not move a muscle, pointing my gun at his head.

  “We were just trying to get home,” he blubbered pitifully from the ground. “Honest Mister, please don’t kill me. We didn’t hurt anyone. Please sir, I have a family.”

  “Are you left or right handed?” I asked calmly while keeping my pistol aimed at his head.

  “Right,” the quivering thief replied.

  I stepped up to the bike thief and brought the heel of my boot down hard on his left hand that was on the sidewalk. I heard multiple bones snap in his hand. The thief yowled in pain rolling onto his back while cradling his injured hand.

  “You are now marked as a thief,” I said menacingly. “I should shoot you where you stand but it is a waste of a bullet. If I ever see you again, I will shoot first and ask questions later. You can also haul your buddy into the woods over there.” I walked over and put the machete in my cart and watched the bald-headed hoodlum struggle to pull his ex-friend off the sidewalk with his remaining good hand. The two girls who had been knocked off their bikes approached us cautiously after seeing the confrontation from afar. One of the teens was cradling her arm protectively to her chest.

  “Thanks Mister,” one of the teens said with tears streaming down her face in a gushing torrent. “They just came out of nowhere and pushed us off our bikes. We were so scared we did not know what to do.”

  “Let me see that arm,” I said gently while taking off my pack and pulling out my first aid kit.

  The injured girl gingerly offered her arm for inspection. It had an obvious fracture in her forearm ulna.

  “How far are you guys from home?” I asked gently.

  “We live about five miles that way,” the uninjured girl answered, pointing in the direction Randy and I were going.

  “Ok,” I said, pulling out a triangle bandage and putting the injured girl’s arms in a sling and gave her a couple of Ibuprofen tablets and a drink of water to wash them down. I directed the uninjured girl to walk the bikes while the injured girl walked beside her. “We are heading in that direction so why don’t you girls walk on ahead of us, that way we can make sure you get home safe.”

  “Jesus!” Randy exclaimed with wide eyes. “What the hell just happened?”

  I held up my finger for a second and took a few steps into the woods next to the sidewalk and promptly threw up the energy bar I had just eaten behind a tree. Fortunately the two girls did not see me but the bald-headed thief did and started pulling his comrade even faster away from me into the woods. I was pretty sure we would not be seeing him again. I took a long swig of water to clean out my mouth. “I saw him as a threat so I put him down. I figured he would quickly graduate from petty theft to murder pretty quickly once he figured out the police were not coming anymore. I did not want him anywhere near my neighborhood.”

  “Good call,” said Randy nodding his head. “That was one hell of a shot, you hit him right between the eyes.”

  “It would have been a great shot if that was where I was aiming. Unfortunately I was aiming for his chest, aim small miss small is what I have always been taught.” I laughed, trying to erase the memory of the hoodlum’s head exploding like a ripe melon. “That was the first time I have ever shot at a person.”

  I have practiced shooting at stationary paper targets for years and I was amazed at the difference between that and a living breathing moving target. We continued down the street following the two girls in front of us after I was done rinsing out my mouth. After about four miles the girls stopped at a long driveway in the tree line abutting the main road about a half block from the turn to my house.

  “Thank you again sir, this is Mary’s house and I live just next door,” the uninjured girl said, turning to us while still holding the two bikes. “We were so scared when those guys grabbed us. We thought they were going to kill us or do something worse. I am still shaking.”

  “What were you guys doing so far from home?” Randy asked.

  “We were coming home from school,” the injured girl replied. “When the lights all went out and the power went down our teachers kept us locked down in the school. We knew our parents would be home so they let us ride our bikes together like we always do. It is only a seven-mile ride so we thought it would be safer for us to just ride home than wait for our parents to have to walk and get us.”

  Just then a short fireplug of a lady with severe cropped hair came barreling down the driveway, yelling at Randy and me to get away from her daughter. We did look a little out of place, like a couple of urban hobos pushing our shopping carts down the road, stopping at her driveway to talk to the teenage girls.

  “Mom…Wait!” said the injured girl.

  “What happened to you?” cried the mom when she spotted the girl’s arm in a sling, looking at Randy and me accusingly. “What did you do to her?” she screamed while staring daggers at me.

  “Whoa! Slow your roll,” I said, stepping back as the mama bear inserted herself in front of her wounded cub. “We were just trying to help.”

  “Well help yourself down the road,” she said dismissively.

  “Easy mom,” the injured girl said. “A couple of really scary guys knocked us off our bikes while we were riding home. One of them had a machete! They threatened us and took off on our bikes. These two stopped them, took our bikes back and walked us home. These two men saved us.”

  “Oh,” the lady said, deflating slightly from full blown bulldozer mode. “I guess I owe you two an apology. I was out of my mind with worry when the power went out and the car wouldn’t start. My husband works in town and I didn’t know what to do. Thank you so much for saving my daughter.”

  “No problem,” I said. “Your daughter has a broken arm and the bones will need to be set. I don’t know if there is a doctor nearby but the arm should be set sooner rather than later so it knits properly. The hospital is fifteen miles away and is probably overrun with problems right now and will not be a safe place, especially since they have lost power. Most have emergency backup generators but if those were fried too then it will be bedlam around there and not a safe place. I live just up the street and can set it in an emergency if needed.”

  “I do not know if there is a doctor in the neighborhood,” she said pensively. “Please, come up to the house, I have been home all day and would like to thank you properly with a cup of coffee.”

  “Thank you for the offer Ma’am,” I replied. “But we need to get home. I live about five blocks from here over that way and will be happy to check on your daughter tomorrow once you and your husband have had the chance to sit down and figure out what you want to do with your daughter’s arm.”

  “Any idea what is going on out there? I am Miriam by the way.”

  “I don’t know,” I replied, shaking my head. “I think there has been an electrical event, either an EMP or Electro Magnetic Pulse or a CME, a Coronal Mass Ejection. It is the only reason I can think of why the grid is down and electronic devices are not wo
rking.”

  “When will they get the power back up and running?” Miriam asked.

  “I don’t honestly know,” I replied. “But if the event was large enough to fry all electronics and depending on its location, the power might not be restored for years.”

  “Oh my!” Miriam gasped, putting her hands up to her mouth. “What are we going to do? My husband is a lawyer for the City of Gig Harbor.”

  “I would suggest sheltering in place depending on the resources you have at hand and working with your friends and neighbors on how to stay safe. The local government may have a disaster plan in place but either way your husband will probably be very busy in the next few days,” I replied. “I may be overreacting but it is better to be safe than sorry in the coming days. Stay off those bikes and put them away where people can’t see them. There are a lot of people stranded out there and a bicycle will be a very attractive target in the next few weeks.”

  “Thank you again for your help,” Miriam said solemnly.

  “No problem,” I replied. “I will come check on you tomorrow.”

  Miriam watched us go as we started pushing our carts down the road. Randy and I continued down the road a few blocks until I saw that Miriam had turned back into her driveway.

  “We need to turn back and go up that road we just passed,” I told Randy.

  “Why?” asked Randy.

  “Because I did not want Miriam to see where we went,” I replied. “I don’t know her and the first rule of safety in these types of situations is not letting anyone know where you live. Security is paramount to staying safe and the safest place to be is where nobody knows you are there.”

  “How are we going to do that?” asked Randy.

  “You’ll see in about five minutes,” I replied with a wink. “You do know what killed the cat don’t you?”

  Randy and I backtracked one street and began pushing our carts up the hill. Most of the houses off our street are on acre tracts like Miriam’s. We turned into a cul-de-sac development with newer houses lining both sides of the street.

  “Nice houses,” observed Randy. “Which one is yours?”

  “None of the above,” I replied with a wink.

  “We aren’t going to turn around again are we?” Randy asked with a whine. “That was a steep hill we just came up.”

  “See that dirt road at the end of the cul-de-sac?” I asked. “We go down there.”

  We continued through the six house cul-de-sac to two mailboxes at the end of the road abutting a gravel driveway. I promptly stopped and removed both boxes and tossed them into the woods. We meandered down the gravel path for around two hundred feet until we came to a house nestled in the woods.

  “Here?” asked Randy.

  “Nope,” I said with a smile. “Turn right onto the paved driveway past this house.”

  We turned and came to an aluminum electric gate with an adjoining wooden fence.

  “This is us,” I said. “My house is around the corner. That is my neighbor, Amy’s house we just passed.”

  We continued up the drive until my house was visible. It is a four thousand square foot craftsman two story house sitting on five acres. I own another adjoining five acres that is all dense woods. Amy at the foot of the drive has an additional five acres next to me that is also wooded. Our two dogs Caymus and Hunter came running down the driveway barking at us until we approached. Caymus is a Rhodesian Ridgeback and looks fairly menacing as he comes running up to us, Hunter is simply wheezing, following behind trying to catch his breath. Upon identifying me they stopped and started wagging their tails, sniffing our carts and taking particular interest in Randy. We continued up the driveway and were greeted at the patio with my wife Belle carrying her twelve gauge shotgun.

  “Hi Honey…I’m Home,” I called out with a smile and a wave.

  “Damn dogs gave me a heart attack.” She laughed when she saw us. “I was pretty sure it was you but you never know.”

  The great thing about Rhodesian Ridgebacks is they are not yappers that bark at everything. They are fiercely protective of their family and home and only bark when the situation warrants it. You can tell by the tone of their bark if it represents “I’m unsure and checking it out” or “intruder alert.” Having a big dog is often the best security system possible but being anonymous is even better. You can’t steal what you can’t find.

  “Honey,” I said to my beautiful wife of fifteen years. “This is Randy. He is a puppy that followed me home. Can I keep him?”

  My wife laughed. She is a thin beautiful blonde with steely blue eyes. I married way out of my league but they say everyone needs a project and I thank my lucky stars every day that I am hers.

  “Well, you’d better come in. More importantly, what did you bring me?” she asked, looking at our carts.

  “Chicks!” I said cheerily.

  “They had better not be blondes,” she said.

  “Nope,” I replied. “They are more yellow colored. We also picked up a rooster just in case.”

  “Not another one!” she said with a smile. “It took me three months to finally convince the last one we had to leave, waking my ass up at the crack of dawn every morning. I think he ended up at the neighbors’ place because I recognize his morning yowl and he is always a half hour ahead of all the other damn things in the area. Come on in Randy, we’ll get the chicks in the secondary baby coop and you can come get cleaned up and have a meal.”

  “Thank you ma’am,” replied Randy sheepishly. “I really appreciate you letting me stay with you and your family.

  “Give it a few days then tell me how you feel,” Belle said with a smile. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

  Off in the distance we heard a car approaching our neighborhood. Other than Mr. Stutz’s truck we had not heard or seen a working vehicle all day.

  “Quick!” I said hurriedly. “Honey, get the chicks inside and give Randy your shotty. Randy, come with me.”

  The two of us ran down the drive and up the gravel road to the cul-de-sac and were happy to see Cindy waving from the driver’s window with two heads peeking over the dash. I ran up making a cutting motion across my throat. Cindy turned the engine off.

  “Pop it in neutral,” I said in a rush. “Randy, get behind with me and push.”

  “Why?” asked Cindy. “I can drive.”

  “Cindy, everyone in the entire community heard your truck. We need to be very quiet and make sure nobody knows where it went. No brakes Cindy. Randy and I will push really hard down the initial slope to the creek and hopefully have enough momentum to get it up the other side.”

  Randy and I ran around to the rear of the truck and started pushing. Fortunately the truck made it up the incline on the other side of the creek from the downhill momentum. We pushed the truck behind a stand of trees by our neighbor’s. Cindy stepped out of the truck and her two kids slid out behind her.

  “Hi!” she said cheerily. “I am so glad I made it. This is my son Jacob who is thirteen and my daughter Ellie who is five.”

  Her son Jacob walked straight up to me, looked me in the eye and put his hand out. “Hi, I’m Jacob.”

  I gladly shook his hand and introduced him to Randy whose hand he also shook. “Welcome Jacob,” I said. “I’m glad you are here.”

  Cindy waved me over and said quietly while tucking a 9MM Sig Sauer into her pants; “I loaded up all the firearms, ammo and food I had at the house, grabbed the kids from school and headed over here as fast as I could. I had to drive on the sidewalks most of the way here due to all the cars in the way and fortunately the kids were in the playground and came running when they saw me pull up. I have never been waved down and yelled to so many times in my life. I felt like a stripper walking past a construction site. I barely stopped to get the kids and high tailed it out of there as fast as possible, not stopping for anything until I got here.”

  “Let me guess,” Randy asked wistfully. “Get back on that darn shopping cart.”

 
“Nah,” I said dismissively. “Let’s see if the tractor works.”

  “Won’t the noise be a problem?” Randy asked.

  “I like how you are thinking Randy but listen. Hear all the generators running? They will mask the noise of our tractor for a few weeks until everyone runs out of gas.”

  The five of us walked up the driveway and were met by my wife in the same position as before with her Glock 19 now at her side. “Let me guess…” she said with a smile.

  “Can I keep them? I promise to take care of them.” I laughed heartily. “This is Cindy, Jacob and Ellie. Cindy is from the feed store and brought us lots of presents for the homestead.”

  “Hello,” said Cindy to my wife. “Thank you so much for allowing us to stay with you. I promise we will pull our weight, at least until my husband gets here.”

  “You are most welcome,” my wife said to Cindy, giving her a hug. “Anyone who can put up with my husband’s bad jokes and paranoia is always welcome, besides we need some more estrogen around here to keep these boys in line.”

  “Mommy!” I heard a little voice from the living room door. “Can I come out now?”

  “Yes Avery,” my wife said with exasperation. “What did we talk about playing hide and seek?”

  “But you didn’t come find me!” we heard as my four-year-old daughter came trotting onto the covered patio from the living room, dragging her stuffed dinosaur Hatter behind her. “Daddy!” she screamed running toward me.

  I scooped her up in a big hug. “Avery, this is Randy and Cindy and Cindy’s kids, Jacob and Ellie. Can you say hello.”

  Avery marched right up to Ellie and said, “Do you like Dinosaurs?”

  Ellie’s head bobbed up and down in the affirmative.

  “Good, then let’s go play!” Avery said, taking Ellie in tow into the house with the two dogs following. They know the most likely source of dropped food and a free meal.

  “Come on in Cindy,” my wife said to Cindy. “I’ll get you settled while the bellhops go get your things. Chop, chop boys or no tip.”