Indivisible

by C. A. Rudolph

  “Anything coming our way not capable of defeating either technology,” Ken added.

  Alan grinned and shook his head. “There he goes again. I knew it wouldn’t be long before Mr. Winter’s pessimism made an appearance.”

  “Realism,” Ken corrected, taking possession of the last remaining NVD from the case. “And asymmetric tactics are very real thing, Mr. Russell, sir.”

  “Asymmetric tactics?” Alan prompted.

  “Would that be your way of expressing interest?”

  “It’s my way of expressing that I don’t know what the term means, Ken.”

  “I assumed as much. You might want to write this down,” Ken said. “It means fighting smarter as opposed to harder, especially when confronted by a larger, more technologically advanced aggressor, by pitting his strengths against him. If your enemy relies on his tanks, make him fight you in mountainous terrain where that shit is impractical. If he has air superiority, make him look for you under a thick canopy, in deep gullies or in caves, where he can’t see dick and it’s dangerous to fly, land and refuel.

  “If his troops are wearing body armor or heavy loadouts, make them pursue you uphill so the extra weight tires them out. And if he’s got the best surveillance tech, make use of countermeasures; provide false positives out the ass and make him doubt his own alert systems. If he’s heavily reliant on tech, find a way to make it useless to him. Intelligence and skill always prevail over million-dollar toys. They only offer an advantage, they’re not foolproof.”

  Alan looked to Jade for clarification and received a nod. He shrugged. “Maybe I should’ve written that down.”

  “I doubt I’ll ever repeat it, so you missed your chance. Tangos in the sandbox used to light fires and burn random shit where they were moving about, and wore emergency mylar blankets between clothing layers to lessen and obscure their heat signatures. It wasn’t perfect, but it did a damn good job of making their bipod frames look more like blobs through a thermal scope. Glass windows, depending on their age and makeup, are opaque to thermal. Vehicles are a lot harder to hide from a thermograph, but if there’s a will, there’s a way.” Ken paused. “And high-intensity strobes, pyrotechnics and even this torch on my belt can overwhelm NVDs and shut them down.”

  “Temporarily,” said Jade. “These aren’t the gen-two hand-me-downs the Corps issued you.”

  “Excuse me, I was First Platoon, Lima Company, Third Battalion of the Second. We had the good stuff, thank you,” Ken rebuked. “And temporarily is plenty of time to get a shot off.” He propped his feet on the side row of seats and leaned back, intertwining his fingers. “So, how far away is this ‘Woodstock’? That’s a town, I take it?”

  “Just over sixty miles or so,” replied Alan.

  “And that’s where you think the fam is now?”

  “I don’t know for certain,” Alan began. “But my wife mentioned they were headed to my parents’ place in her letter. I don’t have anything in my plans that correlates, but I did find a spot indicated on one of the topo maps between the Shenandoah River and the town limits. There’s also a deed in the folder for a twenty-five-acre parcel and a five-bedroom cabin near a town called Perry in West Virginia.”

  “And that would be the family’s top-secret, off-grid, bug-out estate,” Ken proposed.

  “It’s conceivable. By road, it’s about fifteen miles away from my parents’ place. Three names are on the deed: mine, and a Samuel and Faith Gallo. Ownership is a dead-even three-way split.”

  “Gallo?” Jade queried and glanced over.

  Alan nodded.

  “So you were adopted, big deal,” Ken jeered. “It’s okay, man, happens to a lot of tykes. Nothing to be ashamed about.”

  “Or it could mean his mother is remarried, Kenneth,” Jade advised.

  Ken thought a moment. “Yeah, there is that.”

  “The property is paid for, and I was entrusted to hold the deed, for some reason. We must’ve had a joint venture at some point, like a real estate investment of some kind. Michelle said they went to their house first. So I reason we should too. If we find them there, great. If not, we’ll rule it out and head west.”

  The Marauder’s tires whirred over US Route 11’s undermaintained asphalt roads just south of the nearly abandoned town of Strasburg, Virginia. The APC’s width exceeded that of a single lane, and depending on the obstacles encountered, detours had been taken. Some were short and sweet, utilizing the median on either side, while others were something of the opposite and required a reroute along a paved or gravel road for several miles before returning to the original course.

  Alan had requested to drive the remaining length of the trip to his parents’ home, hoping that doing so would serve to jar his memory in some manner, though it hadn’t, yet. Most of his concentration had been utilized to pilot the oversized APC around numerous obstructions.

  While Ken offered sporadic wisecracks and occasional advice from the rear deck, Jade sat inaudibly in the passenger seat, scanning the environment surrounding them, switching between her NVDs and a thermal monocular. “Guys, I don’t mean to put a damper on what’s become a rather mundane drive for us, but I’m getting this…eerie feeling.”

  “You’re late to the game.” Alan glanced over. “Mine started twenty miles ago.”

  Ken stuck his head between the driver and passenger seats. “Did you spot something?”

  “No…”

  “Okay, spell it out, then. Or would you rather us draw conclusions based on your tone?” Ken quipped.

  Jade exhaled. “Sorry. It’s just that, after coming this far…it feels like we’ve set down in some strange universe, like in a world that’s become one big ghost town. This whole way it’s been nothing but miles of unused roads with tall grass growing between the cracks, sporadic abandoned cars and tree branches in the way. I haven’t seen a single light on anywhere, not even a candle. Suffering an overall lack of maintenance is one thing, but no signs of life anywhere? That’s another. It’s as if life itself is just…gone.”

  Alan turned the wheel hard to negotiate around an abandoned tractor-trailer blocking half the road. “It’s a worthy assessment. All things being equal though, we have been driving through a directly affected disaster zone a year and several months subsequent to an apocalyptic-magnitude event.”

  Ken chortled. “Apocalyptic magnitude…listen to the professor. Hang on, let me get comfortable for your incoming dissertation.”

  “Not a dissertation per se, Ken, but how else should we describe it?” Alan said. “I mean, it petrifies the hell out of me to even think about it, much less pontificate over it, knowing my family was around to see and experience what happened. Most people then were fully dependent on technology and lived lives that couldn’t exist without it. Electricity made it all possible, and I’m betting next to no one gave any thought to what it might be like if a day came when electricity just…ceased to be.”

  Jade peered right as they passed an old farmhouse with its front door missing, its wooden siding shredded, and every window shattered. “I think we, meaning Walter and the three of us, missed the worst of it. We were riding out a tidal wave of initial reactions underground in the cavern. Millions of people everywhere else were trying to make sense of everything, then had to fight their way through it, and many of them learned they weren’t able to.

  “When I was a kid, I remember how much fun it was when thunderstorms knocked out the power for a couple of hours. We’d light candles and pretend we lived in the Old West. Sometimes snowstorms would move in, and the power would be off for days. It was always so cool and fun at first, but after a day or two, it got scary. And all we wanted was the lights to come back on so we could watch TV and cartoons again…and see in the dark. Anything to break the monotony and cancel our fears.” Jade paused. “Did either of you ever watch Little House on the Prairie?”

  “Nope,” Ken said.

  Alan shrugged. “I’d answer honestly if I could remember.”

  “I
t was about a family living on a small farm near Walnut Grove, Minnesota, in the late nineteen century,” Jade went on. “It was based on a true story. I watched it all the time when I was little. I couldn’t get over how simple life was then and how hard work provided so much satisfaction for them, even though most families struggled for everything then, even money. Electricity was in its infancy, and they didn’t have anything to use for light other than oil lanterns and candles, and those things ran on a finite fuel source.

  “Lamp oil had to be bought, and candles had to be made, and both had to be conserved; you couldn’t burn them forever. Eventually, it just got dark and they dealt with it. Being afraid wasn’t an option. If something went bump in the night, their alternatives for lighting up the fields outside were vastly limited. I imagine that was pretty damn scary for them. But I’m betting it had to’ve been far worse for the people living in these areas a day or so after the EMP struck. Apocalyptic-magnitude event, no doubt.”

  “While my memory remains of no help,” Alan began, “for reasons I feel pointless to rehash or disclose to present company, my imagination remains operational. I have no doubt that the days and weeks directly following this event had to have been something of an atrocious nightmare for most. I’ve, very reluctantly, given a lot of thought to it. Every day waiting in Butch’s hideaway provided me too much time to consider it.” He sighed despondently. “There’s no way of knowing for sure, but after what we’ve seen since leaving the bunker, it looks like this little section of the country was left decimated.”

  Jade reached for Alan’s hand where it rested on the shifter. “Hey, chin up…they’re okay. You did nothing short of a stellar job preparing your family for this.”

  Alan nodded a tinge. “Thank you. I pray that’s the case.”

  “Guys? Not that this isn’t enthralling, but can we change the subject?” Ken asked. “It’s really bringing me down. I’ve been trying to concentrate on better places and better things, but now all I can think about is this hell on earth the two of you are portraying. It’s depressing. And my hunger is making it worse. Did anyone pack any finger foods in this brute?”

  Jade grinned. “Should be a whole duffel of snacks back there, Ken.”

  “Holding out on me as usual, I see.” Ken acquired the bag and explored its contents. “Oh my. Oh my, my, my. I was expecting to see the same old crapola—SOS, Mainstay rations, maybe a package of stale M&Ms. But this thing’s full of potato chips, pretzels, crackers, and cookies.”

  “Cookies?” Alan asked.

  “Goddamn right, cookies.”

  “Any Oreos? I’m dying for an Oreo,” said Alan.

  Jade put a palm to her belly. “Mmm…Double Stuf. Seventy calories of blissful oral indulgence. If you find any, you’d better pass them forward.”

  “There might be,” replied Ken. “But both of you can wait your turn.”

  At the point of reaching what was believed to be his parents’ house, Alan applied the brake and slowed the Marauder to a stop. Even through the hue of night vision, it was apparent the property had become nothing short of unlivable. Doors were missing, windows and their frames were smashed to pieces, and portions of the home had collapsed, perhaps having done so long ago. There were faded orange notices affixed to the foundation and peculiar markings spray-painted on the brick exterior.

  “Whoa. This can’t be your parents’ place,” said Ken, biting into a pretzel. “I was expecting something a little more…I don’t know, uptown. With some fancy raised gardens, hibiscus bushes and flower beds, maybe a birdbath or two, something. But definitely not this.”

  Alan reached for his map. “There’s no other homes nearby, so this has to be the place.” He sighed. “My family can’t be in there, can they? It looks condemned…like the place caught fire.”

  “Or got struck by lightning,” Ken commented.

  “There’s no way to be certain unless we go in.” Jade gestured for Ken to pass her kit forward. “Nothing showing on thermal. I’ll run this one solo. Ken, stay with Alan, but if you hear shots—”

  “I’ll be there faster than a speeding ticket.”

  “Back in a few.”

  “Be careful,” Alan said.

  Jade smirked at him then descended the ladder and made her entry into the asunder residence. After several minutes inside, she made her exit, and the look on her face was all that was needed to surmise what she’d found, or hadn’t.

  “There’s nothing in there,” she said, stowing her NVDs. “The whole place is ransacked, it looks like a bomb went off inside.”

  Alan rolled his lips together. “No signs of my family, then.”

  “No, nothing. It’s a real mess. What walls remain have holes in them the size of someone’s boot. There’s trash everywhere, and paper notices all over the floor…martial law declarations and several tattered no-knock warrants. I would’ve brought one back, but like everything else, they’re covered in black mold and rodent shit.” Jade took a breath. “It all looks official too. Typed on Homeland Security letterhead or stock that bears the logo. Everything Valerie said about what we might find here looks to be accurate. We might’ve driven ourselves smack-dab into occupied territory.”

  Alan slumped and his expression filled with burden. “Jesus…if they were taken by the feds, what the hell do we do? How would I ever know for sure? How would we get them out?”

  “Don’t jump to conclusions,” Jade said. “We don’t know they were taken. And we still have one more place to check before we run out of places. Hang in there.”

  Alan nodded, but looked as though his nerves were about to get the best of him.

  “Do you want me to drive?”

  Feeling overcome by their most recent discovery, Alan graciously accepted her offer and traded seats, then worked to resume his role as navigator.

  Jade drove on for several miles until returning once again to US Route 11. They continued southbound, passing through another quaint, seemingly uninhabited town before long. A burned-down convenience store came into view on the right, followed not long after by a car dealership on the left, situated amidst a lot of late-model vehicles, all inoperative and motionless. Then, a mile or so after, she tensed and unexpectedly pushed on the brakes. “Alan, trade places with Ken.”

  “What?”

  “Do it,” Jade urged. “Ken, I need you up here…get on the thermal.”

  Ken inserted himself between the seats. “What did you see? A glint?”

  “It was only there for a split second. But it hit us.”

  “IR?” Ken set his bag of chips down and slid past Alan into the passenger seat. “It’s too cold for lightning bugs. Think someone painted us?”

  “Possibly.”

  Alan righted himself in the rear compartment. “Painted?”

  “With a laser designator,” Ken said. “Used to indicate targets for bombs, rockets, missiles, practically anything guided by laser.” He brought the FLIR to his eye. “Most times though, it’s simpler, like a rifle-mounted IR targeting module or a keychain gadget.”

  “And no one uses infrared unless they’re able to see it,” Jade said. “Anything?”

  Ken provided a negative reply at first. “Fuck, scratch that. I have multiple inbound heat sigs, all white-hot.”

  “Engines?”

  “And exhaust fumes. They’re running as we are—all dark. Three contacts, my count. Parallel course, heading…damn near zero.”

  “Time to intercept?”

  “Two minutes, tops. Turn this bitch around and haul ass, Jade.”

  “No time.” Jade shifted into reverse and forced the accelerator to the floor, backing the Marauder off-road through scrub and a handful of trees. She veered into a gulley that led to a drainage ditch, parked and shut off the engine.

  Several edgy minutes passed by in total silence while the trio waited with sweaty palms and pounding hearts. Their disquiet reached apogee as a parade of unmarked armored vehicles sped past at highway speeds.

  Her
eyes glued to what she could see of them, Jade let out a breath. “I don’t think they spotted us.”

  Ken pressed the FLIR monocular to his window. “Nope. Not after that Evel Knievel shit you just pulled. Well done, fam.”

  “Agreed. Way to drive, Jade,” Alan praised. “What the hell were those miscreations?”

  “Category two Cougar MRAPs,” replied Jade.

  Alan leaned in and repeated the acronym.

  “Stands for ‘mine resistant, ambush protected’,” Ken filled in. “They’re overbuilt infantry mobility vehicles, kind of like this one. Highly resistant to land mines and improvised munitions. Saw them often in the Middle East; my unit had a few.”

  “Looks like the Pentagon allotted DHS their share,” Jade said. “The paint looked black as night, and I didn’t see any insignias or markings on them of any kind. They’re definitely not military.”

  “No, they’re not.” Ken set his monocular down. “So this is what martial law looks like, huh? Cool.”

  Jade sighed. “All those nights of crashing in this thing might pay off for me, after all. Find a spot and get comfortable, boys. With all that enemy armor crawling around, we’ll be camping here tonight.”

  Chapter 22

  Trout Run Valley

  Wednesday, January 5th. Late evening. Present day

  Lauren looked to the sky and inhaled deeply, exhaling a sigh. After the roller coaster this trip had become, she was finally home, and it appeared likely her journey would end on a high note.

  Then her heart sank when she saw John. He was standing by himself on the opposite side of the gate facing the road, his arms draped over the top rung, an anticipative yet morbid look on his face.

  “Shit.” Lauren rolled her lips between her teeth and sighed. She sauntered toward him hesitantly, indecision in every step.

  John didn’t look her way at first. “Did you just get home?”