The Nation Chronicles: Book Two (The Nation Chronicles Trilogy 2)

by Wendell Sweet

  As Ira neared one of the cruisers he could see a young officer sitting inside of it. The officer sat staring out at the huge crowd, and turned a tired looking set of gray eyes to Ira as he walked up to the open passenger side window and spoke.

  "Howdy," Ira said."

  "How do," the young police officer returned. "Just get in? Or are you from here?" He smiled as he spoke, and paused to sip from a Styrofoam cup of black coffee. Steam curled up from the cup, and he blew on it cautiously as he sipped.

  "No, I ain't from around here," Ira replied. "I did just git here though. Is there someone still in charge here?"

  The young man smiled back at Ira as he peered in through the window. He had heard the same question so many times that he was used to it being asked. It seemed to him to be the only thing people wanted to know.

  "Wish I could say there was," he replied, "but the truth is there really isn't. I've been here for two days, and I haven't seen anybody at all that seems to know a damn thing. There are ten of us, cops I mean, and I guess we're all waiting along with everyone else. Have you been to the north side of the city?"

  "No, I came in...East Avenue?" Ira answered, questioned.

  "Right," the young man agreed. "East Avenue. Good thing too... You have any problems?"

  Ira paused, thinking for a second about what the young man might consider a problem, and then answered. "Nope, not much of one anyhow. Why?"

  "Well, it seems the north side's gone pretty bad is all. Most everyone who's come from there says so anyway. After dark you can hear a lot of shooting going on. We had Street lights over there until last night, so we could keep track of it a little, but somebody must have decided to shoot them out. It is almost like they don't want us over there. The streets in and out are pretty much blocked too. They keep setting up roadblocks with cars. We moved the cars the first couple of times, but they put them right back every time, across the streets, to block them. I guess what I'm saying is that it doesn't look too good to me, and most of the rest of us, so we stay away from it, and try to warn whoever comes in to do the same. Not that we have it a hell-of-a-lot better here, but at least things are a little calmer."

  "You guy's kind'a still keeping the peace?" Ira asked.

  The young officer chuckled sadly before he replied. "I wouldn't go that far. I'm not sure what the hell we are doing. I guess just holding on until someone gets here, and tells us what to do. That doesn't seem too likely though." He shook his head sadly and then continued. "I guess if that were going to happen, somebody would've already shown up though. I'm sitting here, I guess, because... Where else would I go?"

  He sipped from the cup, and then continued. "I guess eventually we'll all give it up...all the phone lines are dead, and no internet. I think most of us expected, at first anyway, that the phone would ring, and there'd be someone on the other end telling us what to do. Either that or a big military group would move in and take over. That didn't happen though. No soldiers, no phone calls, nothing. So I guess we're waiting along with everybody else, and I guess I could just get out of this car and walk away, but then what?" he arched his eyebrows questioningly as he finished.

  "I guess I see your point," Ira said, "but I ain't so sure waiting for somebody to show up is the answer. I came in from the north, and I can tell you, there ain't nobody coming from there."

  "So I heard. Had a group come in this morning that said pretty much the same thing. I don't know," he shook his head while he blew on the steaming coffee, took another sip, and then continued. "They said they didn't pass a soul the whole way in, and they came from Watertown, way up north, said they spent last night in Fairport."

  "Passed through it myself, Fairport, that is," Ira said, nodding his head. "Didn't see a reason to stick around there. It's pretty much empty."

  "Maybe," the young man agreed. "But you should be careful if you go back that way. If you don't stay here that is."

  "Why's that?" Ira asked. After what he had gone through today he had no intention of going back in that direction at all, but the way the young man had said it had made his heart skip a beat, and he wondered why he had brought it up.

  "Well... It goes back to what I said about the north side. From what the group that came in this morning said, it isn't safe. When they stopped last night they had some trouble. Could've just been some kids, I guess. I doubt it though. There doesn't seem to be any kids anymore. Anyway, they said somebody came by this gas station they were staying at, driving a gray Lincoln, and...Hey! You okay?" the officer leaned across the seat and looked closely at Ira. His eyes had suddenly seemed to bulge outward and he had drawn a sharp breath inward.

  Ira's mind was replaying the earlier events. He shook his head to clear it before he spoke.

  "Did you say gray Lincoln? Gray?" Ira fought to keep his voice low but the panicked question betrayed him. Somebody else seen it too? He asked himself. The young cop was staring at him warily as he leaned across the seat towards him.

  "Are you okay?" he asked again.

  "Yup. Guess so," Ira said, still shaking his head. "I did have a small problem, and you ain't gonna believe it, but I'm pretty sure I seen that car myself." He paused for a second considering what to say before he continued.

  "Well... I mean... What did they say they seen?" He had managed to convince his mouth to smile as he stopped speaking, and stared back through the open window at the young tired-looking officer inside. "It just shocked me sort'a is all. I don't want to get into the whole thing, but I did have a run in with a gray Lincoln myself, and I guess you sort'a surprised me is all."

  The young man stared back at the nervous smile that played across Ira's lips. "You know," he said, "you look the same way that Frank Morgan guy who came in earlier looked, when he told me about that gray Lincoln. In fact the whole bunch of them looked that way. Same as you. Like they were about to shit their knickers, as my grandpa used to say. What the hell is it with that car?"

  "I ain't sure it's anything with that car at all," Ira said, as the smile gave up and left his face. "I ain't so sure you'd believe what I do think it has to do with though."

  He paused, thinking about how much he should say. The young cop was looking at him like he thought he might be a little on the crazy side. He continued carefully.

  "I don't know for sure what I seen, so I can't really say. I guess it just took me a bit by surprise is all. What d'you say that fellas name was?" He let the tension that had crept into his shoulders begin to bleed off, and forced the smile back onto his face as he looked in at the young man and waited for his reply.

  "The group that came in this morning?" he asked.

  Ira nodded his head, and kept the smile fixed grimly on his face. In his mind he saw the green blood-like fluid that had jetted out of the neck of the man when he'd shot him. It was like a small movie in his mind that refused to stop playing, and now it was getting harder to hold the smile, but he struggled with it as he waited for the young man to reply. Did they see him too? He asked himself.

  "Frank Morgan," the young man replied. "He had a pretty good size group with him when he came in. Like you, he wasn't all that willing to discuss that car and what happened. He asked me if anybody else had seen it, and then just clammed up about it. Listen, it goes back to what I said about the north side earlier. There're a couple different ways to get in there, and quite a few that lead off East Avenue. From there it's pretty much a straight shot into Fairport. Probably some of the bad-ass's from there, just trying to scare people. Hell it isn't like there's anybody to stop them. They're going to do pretty much what they please now. There're only the ten of us here, and... Well, I'm not sure we're really cops still, you know? More like information officers I guess, and I don't know how much longer we can even do that. What else can we do though?" he rubbed his eyes, blew once more on the coffee and took a deep drink.

  The small mind movie finally quit running in Ira's head, and he rubbed his eyes with relief. "I guess things are pretty balled up okay," he said.
r />   "You look as though you could use some of this coffee yourself," the young man said. "There's a small Red-Cross-deal, set up in the court house. Been there since the start it seems. You know coffee, sandwiches. You oughta take a walk over and get yourself some. Also the paper got dropped off there; of course it's only two pages long."

  Ira raised his eyebrows questioningly. "Paper?" He asked.

  "Yeah. Pretty strange, huh? The Press Times is just over there," he turned and motioned with one hand at a large building that sat on the same side as the court house about a block away. "There're about seven people over there, and they put out the paper. It struck me as odd, but sort of not also. I mean, it keeps everybody calm sort of. They only been doing a couple of pages, no comic section mind you, but still, it keeps us just a little more sane. If you want a real good idea of what exactly happened, read it. They printed what they could find out anyway, and they been dropping it off at the court house for whoever wants it. In fact, that's where that Frank Morgan guy you were asking about said he was going. Over to the Press that is. If you want to find him..."

  "...We've had people coming in the last couple of days from everywhere I guess. You'll find that's pretty much what the Paper's basing their articles on. It seems that Rochester is about the only place with power, and I wouldn't bet that will last for much longer, but who knows? Long as it does, I guess people will keep pouring in."

  He sipped at his coffee, and then continued as he looked out the windshield at the large crowd of people. "There has to be a couple thousand people here already," he shook his head slowly as he spoke. "I lost count two days ago. Hey, go get yourself some coffee, what did you say your name was?"

  "Ira Pratt," Ira said as he stuck out his hand. "From Seattle, well, used to be I guess. Pleased to meet you."

  "Jimmy Johnson," the young cop replied. "Same here. You mean Seattle Washington? You are from the state of Washington?"

  "Yup," Ira said. "I been, well... Sort'a living somewhere else for a while, but Seattle's my home, or was."

  "Well either way I'm still glad to meet you," Jimmy said as he released his hand. "I guess if there isn't anyone here by tomorrow I'll probably give this job up. Climb out of this car and walk away. What are you going to do, Ira?"

  "Well the first thing I'm gonna do is go get some of that coffee, then I guess I'll try to find that guy that come in this morning," Ira said and shrugged his shoulders.

  Jimmy nodded his head. "I guess I'll be seeing you, Ira." He paused for a second. "If you come up with a plan, you know, what to do," he waved one hand at the crowd and the buildings outside. "Let me know. I don't want to sit in this car forever." He sighed. "It's pretty much all gone, isn't it?" he looked back at Ira with his tired eyes.

  "I ain't sure it's gone so much, Jimmy, as changed a whole lot. I will look you up though. I want to talk to that Frank guy first. Sort'a have to, you see. But, you're right. Sitting in that car ain't gonna bring any of it back, and I don't think anybody's coming to tell us what to do. I do think we gotta make some choices though... God helps those who help themselves, ever hear that saying, Jimmy?" Jimmy nodded his head. "Well, it's a true thing, and we need to start helping ourselves, and not waiting for someone to come along to do it for us. They ain't comin'. You believe in God, Jimmy?"

  "I... don't know, Ira. I never used to. I'm kind of afraid to start now. Sort of like I'm only believing because times are really bad, you know? It makes me feel like it would be kind of dishonest," he finished.

  "It ain't," Ira said. "I kin understand how you feel about it, but it ain't. That's when we're supposed to call on God, when we need him. Course that probably should be a daily sort'a thing, but hardly anyone ever calls on God unless they need him. To me it's the best time to call on him, and he doesn’t seem to mind much. So I guess what I'm saying is, that it's the believing that's important, not when the believing starts. Boil down yer Bible and you'll see it's so. After that point you just do the best you kin. God never said you wasn't gonna sin, but I can't count the times he said he'd forgive you for it. Give it a try, and see if I'm right, Jimmy."

  Jimmy nodded his head. What Ira had said made a lot of sense to him, and, he wondered, if there is no God, what's left to hope for? Aloud he said, "I believe you, Ira, you make a lot of sense. I don't know where else we could go with this life if there was nothing else to hope for. Look me up, Ira, okay?"

  "Will do," Ira replied. "I guess I'm gonna go get some of that coffee, and then wander over to the... What'd you say the name of the paper was?"

  "Press Times, or it used to be." Jimmy replied.

  "Press Times buildin' then, I guess," Ira continued, "see if I kin find Frank Morgan, and the group he came in with. Jimmy, I'll be seeing you later." Ira shook his hand once more before he turned and headed off down the Street.

  - 3 -

  Jimmy sat and thought about what Ira had said, as he watched him walk away. Funny, he thought, a few minutes ago I was sure I hadn't made up my mind what to do, but he's so sure, and calm, is he right? He just made me see what I couldn't see myself.

  That's what we need, he decided, somebody like that, or maybe like Frank Morgan. His group had seemed the same way, like they had made up their minds about something, and intended to go through with it. While he was thinking it occurred to him that he had needed to make up his mind too. Almost like... Well, like he had to. It was important.

  That was the end of it as far as Jimmy was concerned. He leaned back into the soft vinyl seat and sipped the coffee. He felt better than he had for a while, maybe even well enough to get some sleep tonight. It really was funny, he decided. It was funny that one man could say a few words and help him to make up his mind. Not a fire-breathing-preacher, or some other Bible-thumper, but just a man.

  He made up his mind completely. If Ira came back tomorrow, he was going with him. In the meantime he was getting out of this stupid car, and find a place to sleep, maybe talk to some of the other people hanging around. He had seen the same thing in a lot of the eyes he had looked into. People who had thought he might be the answer. He wasn't. He was just part of the old way, he realized, and he didn't want to be part of the old way, he wanted to be part of whatever was left instead. Ira Pratt seemed to have a handle on what that was, and Jimmy felt that he too had an idea of what it was now.

  What it was involved action, not sitting here waiting to live or die, but just getting on with life. He had been half expecting, up until a few minutes ago anyway, that someone just might come walking up to the car with an answer. Of course he thought the answer would be in the form of "Help's on the way," or "Soldiers are here," something like that, most likely delivered by some happily smiling person shouting through his open squad car window or something. This was a better answer though, to the question he had been asking over and over in his mind; what now?

  He felt he knew now. The answer seemed to be, go find out, and get on with your life. He opened the door of the car and stepped out into the night air. It was almost full dark now, and it finally seemed to be cooling off. He let the door stand open and walked to the front of the car, set the coffee on the hood, and stared out into the crowd. Even though it was almost dark, no one seemed to be drifting off yet to find a place to sleep. The crowd was every bit as large as it had been for most of the day. He leaned against the bumper of the car, and smiled, the first real smile he had in days.

  Several people had turned towards him, when he had gotten out of the car, expectantly, and now quite a few of them began to walk forward towards him.

  "You got news?"

  "You hear something?" several of them asked as they approached.

  "I believe I do," Jimmy said as the crowd began to gather around him.

  "It's about time," he heard from several in the crowd. He could see hope on a lot of the faces, as they crowded around to listen.

  Ira walked slowly up the wide stone steps of the old County Court House building. As he walked he listened to the quiet conversations around
him. Most of the conversations centered around what to do, or when help would arrive, and most of the conversations were murmured quietly between just a few people, or in some cases as little as two people.

  Everyone he passed seemed to be sad, and several had been quietly weeping, or staring blankly out into the night air, while silent tears rolled down their cheeks unchecked. He was almost to the top of the stone steps when a whisper began to travel through the crowd, finally reaching the people on the upper most steps.

  "News, news, somebody knows something!"

  The steps cleared out rapidly as people began to stand and walk, some almost running, down the stairs towards the police cruiser that blocked the middle of the boulevard. Ira turned and looked towards the car at Jimmy, who now stood at the front of the car, with a huge crowd of people gathered around him. Ira could not hear Jimmy's words from the top of the stairs, above the whisper-roar of the crowd, but he had a good idea what he was saying. Ira had seen it before. He smiled and continued to stare out at the crowd.

  Looks like all they needed was a little push, Lord, Ira thought, at least they'll be doing something, 'stead a standing around.

  ~4~

  The small paper that had been printed that morning had contained several articles about what had probably occurred in the United States, gleaned from travelers who had come into the city from the surrounding states. Some came from as far south as Florida, and others from as far south-west as Alabama, none from any farther west than that. Although Ira didn't know it, he had summed up what several people had already begun to think. The United States of America was no more, and no one was coming to set things right.