Fight the Shock

by William Oday

  All the other things that Sam expected to see, but not her mother.

  She started to panic.

  What if she’d somehow wandered off too?

  What if she’d gone further than Mr. Ferguson?

  What if she’d made it to the river and fallen in?

  Sam forced herself away from the edge. Just because her mother wasn’t in the room didn’t mean she’d met some horrible end.

  Where could she be?

  She wasn’t in the recreation room.

  There was one other place that she needed to check before she completely freaked out and turned this place upside down.

  Sam raced into the hall and out the back door. She followed the path around the building, turned the corner, and exhaled.

  Her mother was exactly where Sam usually found her when the weather was good. Sitting in her favorite chair next to her personal plot in the community garden. Garden gloves lying in the dark soil. An empty black plastic container from whatever she’d planted that morning.

  She ran over and knelt in front of her. “Mom?”

  Her mother opened her eyes and she smiled.

  Good. She recognized her.

  “Samantha?”

  Sam cringed. She’d told her mother countless times that she preferred Sam, but did she ever listen?

  No.

  It was always Samantha. And too often it was a reminder of how much she loved Bewitched and the lead character, whatever her real name was, who did the cutest little twitch of her nose whenever she wanted to do some magic. Well, having a baby girl was magic so she knew immediately what to name her.

  Sam had never actually vomited from hearing the story yet again, but she’d come close.

  “Did we have plans today?”

  Sam fell into her arms and gave her a hug. “No, we didn’t.”

  Her mother reciprocated the embrace and the tension flooded out of Sam’s limbs.

  She pulled back and wiped away a tear that had snuck out.

  “Dear, are you okay? Did something happen? Did Ethan break another bone?”

  Sam swallowed hard and pulled herself together. “No, he’s fine.”

  “Is it Lily then? Did that boy do something to her?”

  “No, mom. They broke up, and she dumped him. Remember?”

  Her mother made a face. “He was always so nice. She could do worse, you know.”

  No one had told her about Colton’s creepy behavior after the break up.

  “We’re all fine.” It was a lie, but Sam couldn’t handle anything else right now. “I was just worried about you. Did you know the power went out last night?”

  “I heard about it this morning. Is it back on yet?”

  Sam shook her head. “Not yet. I’m sure they’ll have it fixed soon.”

  Another lie. She wasn’t sure, but she did hope.

  As much as she didn’t want to believe it, she knew the truth. This wasn’t a regular power outage. The walk through town proved that. All those cars left dead on the streets. Cade’s truck just as useless. The TV and desktop computer at home that didn’t come on when she plugged them into the generator that morning.

  It was too much to be a coincidence. Too much by far.

  But accepting that meant accepting something even worse. Lily and Cade were far away and she had no idea how they were doing.

  34

  Sitting in the dappled shade of a large oak tree, Cade finished an energy bar and gulped down some water to rehydrate. He and Hudson were far enough into the trees to not have to worry about being seen from the road at their backs. He watched the scene below with a strange mixture of amusement and pity.

  The manicured grass of long fairways and oblong putting greens ran through the narrow valley. A group of golfers had just finished one hole and were walking to the next tee box. They puffed on cigars and an eruption of laughter carried over on the breeze. They gathered together at the next tee box and continued the jovial conversation.

  Hudson snorted. “Just another day at the golf course. How long do you think they’re going to survive?”

  It was the first time he’d spoken in a long while.

  Cade gave a thin smile. “Don’t know. But they’re in for a rude awakening if they don’t get with the program.”

  Hudson nodded agreement and they continued refueling their bodies while watching the spectacle.

  They’d made it through Oakland without further incident and navigated the maze of twisty neighborhood streets that bordered Redwood Regional Park. From there, they’d turned south on Redwood Road and followed it through a vast stretch of forest-covered hills. They’d continued through the equally expansive Anthony Chabot Regional Park until arriving at its southern border.

  Cade had called for a much-needed break, but it was time to get going again. He squinted up through the branches at the noonday sun and knew they were in for a scorcher with it being this hot already. He took another gulp of water and stashed the Camelbak into a bag strapped to the side of his bike. “How are you doing?”

  Hudson had been pretty quiet since their run in with the skaters. Cade didn’t mind the silence. He preferred it, actually. But he worried that it might mean the kid was starting to break down.

  Hudson popped the last of an energy bar into his mouth and stood up. “Ready when you are.”

  Cade rose and laid a hand on his shoulder. “I mean, how are you holding up?”

  “Oh,” Hudson said with a frown. “I don’t know. Okay, I guess. I don’t think any of it feels real on some level. Like this is all just a dream, a nightmare, and I’m going through it but I know I’ll wake up at some point and it will be over. You know?”

  “Yeah, I do.” He did. Only he also knew it wouldn’t be over. Not if over meant going back to one second before the event.

  Hudson’s mouth twisted to the side and clearly something else was on his mind.

  “What is it?”

  Hudson pulled away and swung a leg over his bike. “It’s those skaters. What right did they have to threaten us? Why couldn’t they have just let us go by? We weren’t bothering them.”

  “Some people are like that. They look for prey because they want something. Those guys weren’t too serious.”

  “You should’ve shot Mr. Mohawk Tough Guy,” he hissed. The venom in the words took Cade by surprise. “That would’ve shown the rest of those miscreants that we aren’t prey.”

  “I told you, I would’ve if it had come to that. But I don’t shoot people for insulting me.”

  “He threatened you.”

  “He did. But it was just words. It’s better to defuse a situation if possible. If you go and turn every altercation into a gunfight, you’re not going to survive for long.”

  “Whatever,” Hudson replied as he kicked into the pedals and rode away.

  Cade watched for a second before mounting his bike and following. What Hudson was feeling was normal. He’d been a victim several times in the last day. He didn’t want to be one anymore. That was good. But swinging the pendulum all the way over to the other side wasn’t. Going at everything with a guns-blazing Rambo style only worked in the movies.

  They took Redwood Road south to interstate 580 and hooked a left onto the surface street that ran alongside.

  Cade had to put all his focus on the ride because Hudson was hammering the pedals and setting a grueling pace. It wasn’t one Cade could maintain forever, but he was happy to get through the mountain pass as fast as possible. He would’ve preferred not to take it at all, but it was that or waste half a day on one of the circuitous alternatives.

  Eight exhausting miles later, the road sloped down toward the drab gray of the suburban town of Dublin. They went south on Foothill Rd toward Pleasanton. Cade had consulted his atlas on the rest stop and plotted a route that would take them around the edges of Pleasanton and Livermore. It was country roads for the most part. They’d eventually end up on Patterson Pass Road and take that through another range of squat mountains that ran per
pendicular to their path.

  They’d gone a ways when Hudson’s frenetic pace slowed. Cade pulled up alongside him and saw the reason for it. A wide flat area tucked into a nook in the foothills had a swarm of activity going on. It was too far to make out the details, but Cade had an idea of what it was.

  “Come on,” Cade said as he steered his bike off the road and down the slope on the opposite side. They walked their bikes a while as the sounds of bustling activity grew louder. He found a thicket of scrub brush and they stowed their bikes inside. “I’m going to take a look.” He dug out his binoculars and scrambled up the slope to the road.

  Peering under a guardrail, he glassed the scene.

  Dozens of soldiers were building a perimeter of chain link fence. Others were erecting temporary structures in what would eventually be the interior. A convoy of military transport trucks in the distance turned off the road. A plume of dust rose behind them as they crossed over a span of unpaved land before coming to a stop next to a gathering of other vehicles.

  And then he saw it.

  A cluster of shipping container offices.

  One had big block letters painted on the side.

  FEMA

  The Federal Emergency Management Agency was putting down roots and judging by the sheer volume of soldiers and vehicles involved, they were going to stay a while.

  35

  Cade scooted back down the embankment and joined Hudson in the cover of the scratchy brush.

  “What is it?”

  “Looks like a FEMA camp going up.”

  “FEMA camp? What’s that?”

  “The Federal Emergency Management Agency. Looks like they’re setting up a base of operations to coordinate a response in the local area. Offer refuge to those who need it. That kind of thing.”

  “That sounds good. We should ask them to help us.”

  Cade shook his head. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it might not end there. Some folks say they’re going to imprison Americans and take away our rights.”

  “What? Why would they do that?”

  “I’m not saying they are. I don’t know what they plan on doing and I’m not going to find out.”

  “It’s our government. Their job is to help us.”

  Cade gave it a second because he wasn’t sure if the kid was joking or not.

  He wasn’t.

  “Look, even if you’re right and all they want to do is help, their idea of helping could be very different from our idea of helping. And the problem with that is that by the time we found out, it could be too late to change our minds. What if they designate us as refugees and don’t let us leave?”

  That got Hudson thinking.

  “There’s going to be a lot of people trying to get some place in the coming days. Once they realize this isn’t a temporary emergency and the government isn’t going to fix everything, they’re going to take matters into their own hands. And that means a lot of desperate people on the move. FEMA will want to control that.”

  Hudson nodded.

  “Whatever their intentions, I have to get to my daughter. So, if you want to go ask for help, this is where we part ways.”

  “I’m with you. Better to steer clear.”

  Cade checked the map and plotted a new route that cut east towards town a ways and then back south to continue on as before. They headed out and he was glad to put some distance between them and whatever was brewing back there.

  Hudson slipped into a sullen silence, but fortunately stuck to a more moderate pace this time.

  They rode along country roads and, aside from the infrequent vehicle stopped in the road, there wasn’t much that hinted at the unfolding disaster.

  They made it to Patterson Pass Road and took a right to head east. They hadn’t gone far when the sound of gunshots erupted.

  Cade smashed on the handbrakes and steered off the road down the steep embankment. The front tire hit the bottom of the drainage ditch and he somehow managed to keep from flying over the handlebars. That wasn’t to say he didn’t wipeout. He did.

  But it was a semi-controlled wipeout so he and the bike hit the dirt without suffering major damage.

  Another burst of gunfire.

  Hudson skidded to a stop and looked over his shoulder.

  “Get down!” Cade yelled as he pulled the shotgun out of a side bag. He pulled out his pistol and chamber-checked that it was ready to fire.

  Hudson dropped down beside him.

  They clawed up the gravel slope and peeked down the road.

  An old farm truck was coming their way, weaving back and forth across the road. One of the big ones with high plywood sides in the back that were used to haul produce. A ways behind it was a souped up, early seventies Cutlass Supreme. Copper paint and wide tires. A figure leaned out the window and fired at the truck.

  One of the bullets must’ve hit the truck’s front tire because it exploded and the truck veered out of control. It swerved over to the edge, then overcorrected to the opposite side and finally screeched sideways and came to a stop fifty feet away from Cade and Hudson.

  The Cutlass kicked out to the side and stopped. Three guys jumped out and ducked behind the car for cover.

  The truck’s door flew open and a farmer hopped out with a vintage Western style rifle in hand. He crouched behind the hood and waited.

  One of the guys yelled. “Give us the money, old man! Do it now and we’ll let you go!”

  The farmer popped up and fired a shot over the hood.

  A hail of gunfire came back, thudding into the thick metal panels of the truck. They had AR-15s and knew how to use them. Another burst of fire and bullets pinged off the hood.

  “You’re outgunned! And if you shoot at my ride again, there’ll be no walking away!”

  The farmer peeked over the hood and fired.

  Glass shattered and one of the guys cursed.

  A storm of fire came back, chewing up the side of the truck but not one round punched through. It was fifties era craftsmanship and solid like a tank.

  Cade didn’t know how this thing had started, but he knew how it would end. The farmer wasn’t going to make it. It was sad and it was wrong, but it was reality.

  If they kept their heads down and kept quiet, they could sneak off and follow the ditch away.

  He was about to tell Hudson the plan when the kid spoke first.

  “We have to help him.”

  “No, we don’t.”

  “Yes, we do! Those guys are going to kill him!”

  Hudson started to rise.

  Cade let go of the shotgun, grabbed a fistful of shirt and shoved him back down. “Stay down! This isn’t our fight! The only thing trying to help that poor man will do is get us killed too!”

  “So it’s just like with the skaters then, huh? Run away and let the bad guys win again!”

  “It’s called staying alive. As much as I’d like to help, my first priority is staying alive so I can get to my daughter.”

  “You’re a coward!”

  Cade fought the anger growing in his belly. The kid was mixed up and lashing out. He blew out a hard breath.

  “I’m not running away this time!” Hudson snatched the shotgun and twisted out of Cade’s grasp. He dashed up the slope and sprinted away.

  The farmer saw him coming and raised his rifle.

  “I’m here to help you!” Hudson yelled with the shotgun held out to the side.

  The AR-15s let off another burst and the idiot kid was lucky not to get his head blown off.

  He ducked into cover beside the farmer and told him something. He pointed back at Cade and the farmer looked over.

  The farmer waved.

  Cade stayed low and slunk back down the embankment. He could leave right now and the kid would die too. He chewed on that and didn’t like the taste.

  If he was going to get involved, he wasn’t going to run over and wait until they all got shot to pieces. If he was going to even consider it,
there had to be a better way. Something that shifted the odds into their favor.

  And then he saw it.

  “Dammit,” he hissed.

  36

  A drainage culvert ran under the road twenty feet away. It would be a tight squeeze, but it looked big enough to get through. An almond orchard on the other side of the road would provide cover for Cade to sneak by the bad guys and then take them by surprise from behind.

  If something didn’t go wrong.

  And, of course, any number of things could go wrong because that’s how life worked. It was just more obvious in those moments when a single mistake could turn out to be fatal.

  Cade ejected the magazine and verified it was full. He palmed it back in and crawled over to the culvert. Puddles of stale brown water filled the valleys of the ridged pipe. A bright circle of light spilled in from the other side. It wasn’t that far, but it was smaller than he’d expected.

  He ducked his head inside and his shoulders bumped into the edges of the pipe. He tried again with both arms extended out and just managed to squeeze in. He drove his boots into the gravel and had to wriggle like a worm once his whole body was inside. He inched forward, his toes and hands working together to lift and push in unison.

  He’d made it halfway through when the diameter of the pipe changed imperceptibly. To his eyes anyway. Not to his body. It squeezed on his shoulders. Another heave but he didn’t move an inch. He tried to go back but that didn’t work either.

  He was stuck and couldn’t fill his lungs all the way because there wasn’t room.

  Panic roiled in his gut. A wild electric edge that fought to take over and leave him senseless. The thought of getting stuck in there for good filled his mind. He couldn’t call out for help. That would get him killed. But what was the alternative?

  A slow and agonizing death from dehydration and exposure.