by Pat Riot
Rob got back onto the road and continued north along the straightaway. He knew there were three or four ranch houses on the right set back off the road towards the end of the mile-long straight section of roadway just before it reached the intersection with San Timoteo Canyon Rd. He stuck to the left shoulder as he walked, keeping an eye out for lights or movement, and an ear out for sounds not produced by nature. As he walked he pulled an apple and a banana from his Eberlestock backpack and ate them on the move.
When Rob reached the T-intersection of Redlands Boulevard and San Timoteo Canyon Road he turned left and headed west. He would have to go west for about a mile before he could turn onto Live Oak Canyon Road, which would take him east towards Yucaipa. He would have gone straight north from the T-intersection and cut through the wilderness, but there were steep hills blocking any access.
After a half mile, a set of railroad tracks curved in from the north and paralleled along the north side of the street. Rob knew this line was one of the main east/west rail lines between southern California and the rest of the country with goods from all over the world being shipped into the Port of Los Angeles and the Port of Long Beach, the two busiest ports in the United States, then put on rail cars to be moved to the rest of the country. Because of that, large trains passed through every thirty minutes. A few years prior Rob was talking to a railroad employee and he told Rob that whenever this line was shut down, due to maintenance or derailment, the rail company lost an estimated one million dollars in revenue for every hour the line was shut down.
As Rob walked he could see a train was stopped on the tracks and blocking the railroad crossing on Live Oak Canyon, where Rob was going to turn. Instead of waiting to get to the intersection to navigate the train, he stepped off the road and walked up the slight embankment to where two of the train cars were attached together. He carefully climbed over the hitch and came out on the other side of the train where he walked west next to the tracks, shoes crunching through the gravel.
When Rob reached Live Oak Canyon he turned right and crossed a small bridge that was built over what was usually a dry creek bed but would fill with water during rain storms. The road then made a few turns before straightening back out and heading straight east for about a mile. This area would be more populated than the area of the canyon he had already walked through, however the houses were all set on large properties and were mainly ranches and small farms that were set back at least a few hundred feet off the roadway. When he reached the last turn he could see several cars sitting sideways in the roadway where the straightaway began. Roadblock, Rob thought.
He stopped and studied the area, hoping to figure out if the roadblock was meant to keep people out of the area or meant to create a chokepoint for ambushes. As he looked a female voice suddenly bellowed out from the darkness, “ROAD’S CLOSED!”
Not an ambush then, they would have never said anything before attacking me, they’re just trying to keep people out. Maybe I can talk my way through, Rob thought. “Permission to approach?” Rob yelled back.
Rob waited half a minute before he got a response. “Slowly,” the female voice said. “And keep your hands where we can see them.”
He slowly walked towards the cars, hands held out to his side palms facing forward. I hope they don’t have itchy trigger fingers. Please don’t shoot me, please don’t shoot me, please don’t shoot me. When Rob reached the cars, he stopped.
“Step to your left between those two cars and come around to the other side. You do anything I don’t like, and you will be shot,” he heard her say. Her voice was rock steady.
Rob complied and when he reached the other side of the roadblock he paused again to wait for more instructions. He heard movement from his right and a few seconds later a figure, carrying an AR-15 in a low ready position, moved out of the trees on the side of the road and walked slowly towards him. When the figure reached the asphalt of the roadway a flashlight clicked on and was pointed at Rob’s mid-section. He appreciated that it wasn’t shined in his eyes.
“My partner told you road was closed,” a gruff male voice said.
At least two of them then, Rob told himself. “I heard her, but I’m hoping you can make an exception.”
“Why would I do that?”
“I’m trying to make it to Yucaipa,” Rob responded to the question.
“What’s in Yucaipa?” the male voice asked.
“My family.” Rob elected to keep his answers as short as the questions.
The line of questioning continued. “Where’re you coming from?”
“Work,” Rob said.
“Where do you work?”
Rob had a decision to make. Admit he worked in Law Enforcement and risk the people at the roadblock were part of the small section of society who blamed all their problems on the police? Or try to lie his way through and risk the man seeing through his lies. Rob decided to take a chance. “I’m a dispatcher, trying to walk home from Riverside.”
There was a pause then, “The center off Alessandro?” The gruffness had been replaced with curiosity.
“That’s the one,” Rob replied, starting to feel better about his decision to remain honest.
“You have your work ID on you?” he asked Rob.
“In my wallet; Left front pocket.”
“Okay, very slowly, take it out.”
Rob moved with slow and deliberate movements, not wanting to give anyone the impression he was about to make a move they wouldn’t like. He retrieved his wallet, more a money and card clip, out of his pocket, took out his agency ID and handed it to the man.
“Guess you ain’t lying,” the man said after studying the card. He suddenly turned and yelled out, “He’s code-4, guys.” The man’s usage of a police radio code to let others know Rob wasn’t a threat wasn’t lost on Rob.
“You Law Enforcement?” Rob asked him.
“Retired two years ago. Colton PD, twenty-nine years. I’m Jim Bowman,” The man stuck out his hand, now sounding friendly.
Rob shook it, “Rob Miller.” He could now see the man was a six-foot-tall thin black man wearing eye glasses and a load bearing vest with several magazines and medical supplies attached to it. By this time several others were joining them behind the roadblock. “Thanks for not shooting me guys,” Rob greeted them. He received a few chuckles in return.
“C’mon over here Rob, take a load off,” Jim said to Rob. To the rest of the group he said, “Back to your post’s everyone, fun’s over.”
Rob followed Jim a couple hundred feet down the road where he found several lawn chairs set up in a rough circle. Rob dropped his backpack in one and sat in another, feeling the relief in his feet and knees. “You guys seem to be doing okay here,” Rob said.
“Yeah we aren’t doing too bad yet. All the neighbors in this area know each other and are pretty self-reliant. Guess it’s a result of rural living. It was easy to get everyone organized once I convinced them that this wasn’t a short-term blackout. Then we all started preparing. The first thing we did was set up the roadblocks, this one here and one on the east side. We plan to reinforce them but figured the cars would do for now. Luckily a few of the ranches have older equipment so we have a couple tractors that still work, including an old pickup truck that we have been using to help get everyone back and forth from their houses to their shifts at the roadblocks,” Jim explained, a touch of pride in his voice.
“Yeah, I guess you guys are on the right track. If nothing else, you’re organized,” Rob said. He decided to fish for information, “Any of you hear any news from anywhere else?”
“Chuck, one of the neighbors, has an old battery powered radio. I think it only survived because it was down in his basement in an old metal storage trunk. But anyways, the only thing we’ve heard is one of those emergency alert system messages on repeat from the feds. It just says that they’re working on getting the power restored and asking everyone to have patience. It also tells everyone to stay home and help their neighbors if th
ey’re able to. Then it repeats. Bunch of bullshit if you ask me,” Jim said, now with disgust in his voice. “Sure wish someone in our group had a working ham radio.”
“Yeah, probably the only way to get or give any info right now.”
“Probably gonna be that way for a long time,” Jim agreed.
“Yeah,” Rob said, then changed topics. “Hey, I don’t know how much you guys have scouted around, but you know the tracks to the west that run along San Timoteo right?”
“Yeah, what about ‘em?” Jim asked.
“There’s a train stopped on the tracks,” Rob could see that bit of information caught Jim’s full attention. “I figure when the locomotives lost power, the air brakes lost pressure and they auto stopped the train. I’m no authority on what trains carry, but there might be stuff on there that will help you guys out.”
Jim sat thinking for a minute. “Yeah you might be right. First light I’ll organize a group to go check it out. Thanks for letting me know. I’m sure we would have come across it at some point, but it would be nice to get to it before anyone else does.” Jim changed the conversation. “Hey, you know James Blackman?”
“Tall white guy, goes by JB?”
“Yeah that’s him,” Jim replied with a smile. “How’s he doing? We went to the academy together.”
“He’s good. He’s commander over the southwest division now. I heard he’s planning on retiring next year. Or was, I guess, before all this happened.”
“He promoted that high?” Jim asked with a short laugh. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised, he’s a good guy. Really smart too. If I remember right, he took the award for top academic in our academy class.”
“Yeah, he is,” Rob agreed. They ended up talking for another thirty minutes, with Jim asking about many of the officers that worked for Rob’s agency. Law enforcement was a tight knit community and it was common for officers and employees of one agency to become close friends with the officers and employees of other agencies. Rob finally decided he had delayed enough. “Hey, listen, thanks for letting me walk through. I really appreciate it. It would have sucked to have to try to walk down to Redlands or up to Beaumont before circling back to Yucaipa.”
“No problem Rob,” Jim said. “Just follow the road. If you start to wander one of the neighbors might shoot you, all of us are armed and protecting our own houses in addition to the roadblocks. Our eastern roadblock is set up at the end of those S-turns, west of the bridge that cuts across that dry creek bed. It’s manned twenty-four hours just like this one. Right now, the guy in charge over there is Will Hall. He’s a retired Marine chopper pilot, good people. As you approach the roadblock make sure you’re making some noise, so they don’t think you’re trying to sneak up on ‘em. Let them know I let you through over here and you shouldn’t have any problems on that side.”
Rob stood up and shouldered his backpack, then stuck out his hand, “Thanks again Jim. Good luck to you, I hope you and your people here make it through all this without too much trouble.”
“No problem Rob,” Jim shook Rob’s hand. “Good luck to you too. I hope you get home and find your family safe and sound.”
With that, Rob got back onto the road and started walking east again. As he walked he could feel the temperature was dropping and it was much colder than it was the night before. He zipped up his jacket and pulled his beanie down a little tighter around his ears. This isn’t a bad place to try to survive. It’s a long narrow valley that’s pretty easy to protect on both ends. On both sides steep hills provide protection from anyone coming from the north or south. They have a lot of good land to farm. I’m sure most of the houses have at least a vegetable garden already. And most of them have horses and cattle, and if I remember right one of the places has a good size heard of cows and sheep. These people are going to be okay if they can protect it all.
Rob made it through to the S-turns without incident. Once he reached the sharp turns that wound around a few hills he started whistling and clapping every few seconds, taking Jim’s advice to make some noise. As he came around the last turn he was confronted with the roadblock. He clapped a few times before putting his hands in the air and yelling out, “Just passing through, Jim Bowman let me walk through. Please don’t shoot!”
“Hold it right there! And keep your hands visible,” a gravelly male voice yelled out. Rob stopped and waited, hands held out to his side. A minute later a white male in his 60’s with a military style haircut and carrying an AR-15 walked up to Rob. “You say Bowman let you through?”
“Yeah, you must be Will Hall,” Rob replied.
“That’s me. If Jim let you through on the west side I guess you’re okay. You must be law enforcement.” Rob gave a quick nod, so Will continued, “He always had a hard on for you blue line fellas.” It almost sounded like an insult, but Ron noticed the smile on Will’s face and knew he was joking.
“Better than a hard on for the big green weenie,” Rob joked back, alluding to the Marine Corps.
“Touché,” Will said with a laugh. He turned and raised his voice, “One coming through, he’s headed east.” He turned back to Rob, “You’re good to go. Carry on.”
“Thanks,” Rob said with a respectful nod before walking up to, then through, the makeshift roadblock. Will was the only one Rob could see, but he knew there were probably several other keeping a sharp watch.
He left the roadblock behind, continued following the road, and a few minutes later came to the bridge that Jim had mentioned. It crossed a narrow deep ravine created by a creek that flowed through whenever it was raining in the area. It was part of the same creek bed Rob had crossed just before reaching the first roadblock and Jim Bowman.
He decided to take a break and get some food in his stomach. Rob walked off the north side of the roadway and along the ravine for a couple hundred feet before he came to an area where the wall of the ravine was shallow enough that he could easily hike down to the creek bed. Since being hired as a dispatcher Rob drove through this area several times a week and he knew there were a lot of trees and bushes in the ravine that he could use for cover. He hiked down then turned and followed the creek bed in a northeasterly direction until he came across a grove of trees. He found a suitable tree and took his pack off then sat on the soft sandy ground and leaned back.
Rob checked his watch. 4:12 am. He decided to just relax for ten minutes before eating. It felt good to rest after the long walk. While he was resting Rob heard rustling in the brush to his right. He slowly and quietly sat up, slid the Marlin .22 off the side of the backpack, and slowly pulled back then pushed forward on the bolt to quietly chamber a round. He waited a few minutes then heard the rustling again. Rob quietly took the Surefire out of its holder, activated the light, and pointed it in the direction of the noise. A rabbit. It scampered back into the brush. Rob left the flashlight on and put it on top of his bag with it angled towards where the rabbit disappeared, then shouldered the rifle and waited patiently.
Three minutes later the rabbit came back out of the brush on the right edge of the Surefire’s light beam. Rob aimed using the iron sites, took a breath, slowly let it out, and gently pressed the trigger. The .22 round fired with a loud snapping sound but almost no recoil. Not as loud as his Springfield XD when fired, but anyone in the immediate area would know a gun was just fired. The round hit the rabbit in the neck, knocking it over and killing it instantly. Rob chambered another round, set the rifle on safe, laid it across his backpack, then went over and picked up the rabbit.
Rob had a couple hours before the sun came up and wanted to clear the area due to the sound of the gunshot. His hunger would have to wait a while longer. Using the Gerber folding knife he quickly skinned and gutted the rabbit, then used a piece of paracord and hung it from the bottom of his backpack. He used some sand from the ground to dry the rabbit blood from his hands, slung the backpack on, picked up the Marlin rifle, and headed out. He wanted to keep the rifle handy in case he came across anymore rabbits.
> Instead of climbing back out of the ravine and using the road, he decided to stick to the creek bed as it would lead him in the direction he needed to go, northeast. He knew it would lead him to the edge of the city limits of Yucaipa and Rob was confident he could find a place to climb out when the time came. His progress was slowed some by piles of debris and the soft sand of the creek bed, but Rob pressed on, walking around, over, and sometimes through the obstacles created by brush and debris. He passed more groups of trees and kept his eyes open for more rabbits.
At one point as he walked Rob heard a string of gunshots, probably eight or nine in a row. Being in the ravine, he couldn’t determine which direction they came from, but they sounded far away. Hell, that could have been fireworks for all I know, but who would be setting off fireworks at a time like this? I hope Jim Bowman’s people are okay.
Rob came to a large fork in the ravine. The left side went almost directly north. The right continued northeast. He figured the one on the left was the same one that ran underneath the I-10 freeway further north and continued through the middle of Yucaipa, and the one on the right most likely intersected with Live Oak Canyon Rd before continuing east, paralleling the I-10 on the south side of the freeway. Rob decided to go right. He lived near the east edge of Yucaipa and wanted to avoid residential areas as much as possible and the right fork would stay closer to the route he was thinking about taking.
Rob walked for another thirty minutes before deciding to stop and make camp. It wasn’t quite 6:00 am and he had about one more hour of darkness. He wanted to have his camp setup and the rabbit cooked before it got too light, so he found another small grove of trees and put his backpack down.
